


A Light in the Darkness

by Burgundy_Embers, samwise_baggins



Category: Dungeons and Dragons (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, M/M, Past Abuse, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7683493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgundy_Embers/pseuds/Burgundy_Embers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Kingdom's summer festivities, young women and men learn their destinies while others seek to change their paths. Grave danger rises and lurks in the shadows, seeking sweet revenge for a wrong nearly seventeen years old. But one will step forward to challenge this evil, and a group of champions will rise in aid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unwanted Future

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Set in a medieval time on Earth somewhere in Europe.
> 
> Note: As this is set on Earth, and we could hardly use a horse in many shots, we have taken the liberty of making Uni a human. Sorry if that is disappointing. (Idea originated with _‘The Never-ending Story’_ by Sam.) Also, Freddie (Terri’s dog normally) is a human in this story.
> 
> .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduced Characters and Ages: Sheila, 16 and Bobby, 13 (and their parents)
> 
> Chapter Summary: Sheila, who is ill, finds out she is betrothed against her wishes and will be traveling to the king's summer home for a tourney held in her honor. A summer of festivity is planned for her.
> 
> .

Richard O'Neil, a tall man with all the muscle a knight of the realm often sported after wearing seventy pounds of armor every day for the past twenty years, strode quickly through the echoing stone corridors. His blue eyes snapped with energy and his neatly trimmed blond hair reflected a man used to wearing a helmet as part of his normal working gear. He practically thrummed in excitement at the news he had.

Ignoring the woven tapestries which lined the walls to keep out the chill and add color to the grey walls, Richard put a large work-worn hand to his mouth and hollered "Woman! Children! Come to me now!" No one dared fail to obey the master of the baronetcy, and so Richard had no fear his family would not heed his summons if they could hear him. Finally, rounding a corner, the large man stopped inside the even larger dining hall. He surveyed the dark room, the scoured wooden table and chairs, the massive fireplace with the roaring fire, and the bustling simply dressed servant woman.

Rosalie put down the golden urn she had been dusting, curtsied, and left the room. The harried maid hurried into her young mistress's room, blowing to try to get some strands of dark brown hair out of her eyes. She stopped, hands slipping to her plump waist, and let her blue eyes rove over the neatly kept bedroom. "Miss Sheila? Sir Richard wants you down in the hall. We must get you dressed."

The maid scratched at the bedroom door attached to the main dressing room. She sighed softly then pushed it open, frowning as she gazed inside, wondering if her mistress was still abed . . . a fever had run through the household recently and even the lady of the house had been laid low. Lady O'Neil's hair had been shorn so short due to the fever tangles that her natural color was all but impossible to tell. Young Robert, the heir, had also been quite ill. All of the servants waited anxiously to see if their young mistress, too, would need the care of a leech . . . or of a priest.

"Miss?"

Behind the young servant, thirteen year old Robert shoved open the door very wide and shuffled in, panting slightly since he was still not fully recovered. "Sheila? Father's calling. Sounds like he's in a good mood."

The young redhead slowly managed to sit up in her bed at her younger brother's arrival. "Is he, Bobby? We will just have to go see what he is happy about, won't we?" Sheila smiled at him while quickly wiping away the band of sweat on her forehead, trying to hide any sign of weakness from him. "Why don't you go tell father I will be down in a moment." With a smile still on her tired face, she glanced at her most trusted maid, giving her a look that told her there was no sign of improvement.

Bobby frowned and nodded, glancing at the maid then back at his older sister. “I’ll come back and tell you,” he said. The young blond turned, blue eyes worried, and sprinted from the room, intent on getting this interview over as quickly as possible.

The maid looked at her mistress and nodded, taking in the feverish look, the sheen of sweat, the pale, clamminess of the young lady’s skin. When the sound of young Robert’s footfalls died out, the maid strode over to the bed and began straightening the bedclothes. “I know what his news is, if you don’t mind my speaking out of turn, Miss Sheila.”

The sixteen year old wondered what good news her father had. She felt hot and her back grew tired of sitting up. Knowing she wouldn't be able to make it down to hear the news for herself, Sheila nodded. "We both know I won't be able to make it down even if I wanted to. Go ahead, Rosalie, please?"

Rosalie nodded, pushing the bedclothes aside to sink down next to her feverish mistress. Patting her own cap, making sure it covered her brown braids, the green-eyed maid leaned forward to say in a low voice, "a betrothal miss. Sir Richard has found you a husband."

"A husband," Sheila echoed, wondering why her father would sell her freedom so quickly only a few short months after her birthday. "For certain? Do we . . ." Dizziness swept over over her instantly. Unsure of if it was the shock of the betrothal or the fever getting the better of her, she brought a hand to her forehead and shut her eyes. After a few deep breaths, she opened her teal green eyes and met her maid’s worried gaze. "Do we know who he is?"

Nodding, biting her lip, Rosalie smoothed her hands over Sheila’s bedclothes. “Lord Montgomery.” She paused then looked at the younger woman. “Your father just received a message, and I heard him discussing it with the man that delivered it. He said Lord Montgomery is looking for a wife and, since he’s related to the king, it was better than any other hope you’d have . . . Miss.” She flushed at what could be easily taken as an insult.

"Rosalie, you are allowed to speak freely when no one else is around." Sheila's eyes wandered down to the covers of her bed, unsure of what to say. Dreams of true romance and falling in love were gone, and now true duty laid upon her shoulders. She now feared for what would become of Bobby. "Was there anything else?"

“Well,” Rosalie nodded once more, “there is, Miss. The King has asked the family to go to his country palace for the summer. His alchemist is to attend to you.” She ended with a hopeful note; surely an alchemist was better than a leech.

Before either girl could say another word, the door slammed open, and Sir Richard stood in the doorway, frowning. “Robert says you’re not well still, Sheila?”

Sheila tried to sit straighter, but failed with a groan. She gave Rosalie another look then looked at her father across the room. "I am not," she replied with a frown.

Richard nodded and strode over. “Well, I have wonderful news for you, my pet.” He beamed down at the girl, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. “The King has invited us to his hunting lodge for the summer. There will be a tourney in your honor, pet. What think you?” Her father looked delighted, though he failed to tell her why the King would honor her in such a way.

"This is wonderful news, Father," Sheila said, smiling up at him and trying to seem happy though she wasn't. Knowing she couldn't object to her father's wishes, she shoved her uncertain feelings aside and cleared her throat. "When do we leave?"

With a loud laugh that made Rosalie wince, the knight clapped both hands against his thighs. “That’s my pet! Always up for adventure, aren’t you? I’ll have the house packed immediately and we’ll leave in the morning. The sooner we get to the lodge, the sooner the King’s alchemist can cure you.” He grinned at the pretty redhead in the bed who looked so much like his wife had in her youth. “The King thinks his man can help you get over this fever.” Nodding, the man turned back towards the door and stopped, as if he recalled something. Turning, he grinned wider. “Oh, pet, we’ll have a grand wedding for you and Montgomery!” With that, he left, striding quickly out the door and down the hall.

Rosalie dared to place her hand over Sheila’s, her face holding a sympathetic look. “I hear he’s very rich, Miss, and has two little boys to raise.”

"He has two children already?" Sheila asked quietly. "Bobby alone is a handful to keep up with, but two of them?" She let out a deep breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "He'll want more. . . when I become his wife. Rosalie," she paused, her eyes focused on her covers, "am I ready for this?"

The maid forgot all sense of class and dignity. She slid her arms around her mistress and began to slowly rock her. “Oh, Miss Sheila, of course you are. Didn’t you raise young master Robert the way he is, all brave and strong? You’ll be a wonderful mother, Miss, and you’ll love having your own babies to raise, too.” Rosalie rocked the other girl, her manner that of someone much older than eighteen years of age. “Now let me get you some tea for your throat and that pot and cloth to steam the air back into your body, Miss. You’ll be at the palace in no time and then you’ll be pampered like a princess with not a care in the world.” The young woman made no move to leave the younger girl, merely rocking her as she made soothing noises.

Sheila smiled a little at her maid's words, finding some comfort in them. "Thank you, Rosalie. I don't know what I would do without you," she said, pulling away from her hold. Looking at her maid, a thought hit her so quickly, making her smile fade. "You are coming with us, aren't you?" Fearing the answer to her question and feeling the tears form in her eyes, Sheila hugged her maid tightly once again.

With a soft laugh, Rosalie returned the hug. “Well of course, Miss. The King has no wife or daughters, does he? What would he have use of a lady’s maid? So, it stands to reason he doesn’t have one. You’ll be needing me to dress your hair and press your clothes and draw your bath.” She patted Sheila on the back then pulled away and stood, smoothing some of the wrinkles from her uniform. “So, naturally I’ll be going to the palace with you. Now you rest, Miss, and I’ll get the tea and steam.” She gave the redhead a quick smile and turned to briskly leave the room.

The door had not even shut before it was opened once more, and Bobby rushed in and directly to the bed. “Sheila? Has father told you?” His anxiety showed in the way he practically vibrated. The thirteen year old stopped short, just shy of flinging himself onto the bed, but he certainly seemed agitated.

Sheila let out a soft laugh that quickly turned into a cough then leaned back onto her bed. Patting a spot on her bed for her brother, she said, "Yes, Bobby. Father told the news and plans for me." She smiled a reassuring smile. "You don't need to worry. Everything will be fine."

Bobby slid onto the bed and studied his sister carefully before finally settling. “And you aren’t upset?” He frowned and glanced out the nearby window, down at the sun-dappled courtyard with the carts already being packed for their imminent journey. “I mean, I don’t mind competing, especially for you, but I thought you’d want to at least know the man you’re going to marry before your wedding. It hardly seems enough time to get to know him . . . it’s only three months then the wedding.”

Sheila was at a loss of words. No one mentioned that she would be married in three months, only that she was to be wed. She knew there was no use lying to Bobby, but did so anyways. "Three months is plenty of time to get to know someone. Remember the trip we took last spring? You met a boy named Alexander. He was the neighbor a road across from where we stayed. You two became friends in no time and that was only a month and a half. A lot can happen in three months, I suppose." The bedroom filled with silence for a moment. She could hear their father outside ordering around the servants. Everything was happening too quickly. Changing the subject from marriage, she said, "I heard he has two young sons. That means more friends. Perhaps you and Timothy will befriend them just as quickly."

Her brother turned back to her so quickly, the bed groaned and creaked. “What! Two sons?” He shook his head, blue eyes wide in horror. “I don’t think you should marry someone who’s already got children, Sheila. I can talk to father.” He had no clue what he’d say to their autocratic father, but maybe he could play on the man’s love of his only surviving daughter. “I’ll tell him to wait until you feel better. Maybe one of the knights competing in the tourney will offer for you . . . one of father’s friends?” of course, those men were most often their father’s age, but Bobby thought it might be better than a complete stranger. “What about Sir Dekion? He’s a widower.”

"Bobby, I have to do this." Sheila couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, and she was sure Bobby wouldn't either. "When you are older. . . when it is time for you to choose your own wife, you will be able to pick who she is and protest as much as you like if need be." She placed a hand on his arm. "Don't talk to father. We both know it'll be useless when he's got his mind set on his decision." She let out a breath. "And I can't stay here as much as I would like to. We're leaving early so that his alchemist can heal me. It'll be good for our family and for me to go through with this engagement. Besides, I'm sure those knights are well worthy enough just as this Lord Montgomery is."

Opening his mouth to protest, the words died in the forming at what his sister said. “What? _Lord_ Montgomery? But . . .” He shook his head. “Father’s betrothing you to Lord Montgomery? But . . . his sons are your age. I . . . I thought you’d be marrying one of them.” Troubled, shaking with his strong emotions, Bobby jumped to his feet and started pacing, waving his hands around as he spoke, voice rising. “How could father do such a thing? He’s already killed five wives. I’m not going to let him get you, Sheila. He can have someone else. No one’s hurting my sister!” Bobby whirled towards the bedroom door.

Sheila paled instantly. Registering what her brother just told her, she quickly sat up, ignoring the side effects it had and being too concerned about her brother leaving. "Robert, come back over here this instant." Her voice was barely loud enough to sound authoritative. "I'm sure there is some misunderstanding, and I'm sure father has a good explanation for betrothing me to Lord Montgomery, if that is true."

Rebelliousness crossed his features but Bobby stopped, back stiff, hands clenched. He slowly turned and faced his older sister. “What?” His voice held challenge.

Sheila hated the fact that she was ill. She couldn't say what she wanted and have Bobby listen to her fully. Staring at him directly, she said in a soft yet firm voice, "If you say something in the matter you hardly have a place in, know that if you get in trouble by father, I won't be there to get you out of it. I'm in no condition."

Bobby glared a moment longer at Sheila then slumped, head bowing down. He walked back into the room, over to the bed, and stopped next to his sister’s limp form. “I’m sorry, Sheila. I won’t go to Father. But I want you to promise you’ll let me go to him if you don’t like Lord Montgomery after you get to know him.” He raised his blue eyes, meeting her teal ones, worry reflected in his face.

Sheila looked away to her bed covers. She knew if she didn't make the promise to her little brother that he would certainly go talk to their father. If she did make the promise to reassure him, she would end up lying to him in the end. There was no choice either way, and if pained her. “Bobby,” she paused, meeting his gaze, “I promise. If I don’t like Lord Montgomery I will tell you immediately."

"All right," he still sounded reluctant, but he didn't make a rush for the door. Instead he sank onto the foot of the bed, far enough away that she couldn't get all lovey and cuddly if she got the urge . . . it was Bobby's opinion that his sister was overly affectionate. Not that he minded it, really, but he wasn't fond of public displays of affection. "So, will you watch me in the tourney, Sheila?"

"Of course I will watch you, Bobby. I'll be there cheering you on." Sheila smiled at him. "Not even the fever could let me miss such a thing." She wiped a band of sweat off her forehead then added, "Or Lord Montgomery. After all, it's being held in my honor."

Bobby turned the full force of his sunniest smile on his older sister. Seeming to swell with pride, he puffed out his chest and claimed “and I’ll be chosen this season, Sheila! I’ll start my knight training this time.” Being a squire for his father had satisfied young Bobby until then, but he wanted more. At thirteen years, he felt it was more than time to break off on his own.

Sheila smiled at her brother's happiness. "That is exciting," she said, smiling at him. Seeing her brother happy made her happy. "I know father is proud of you. Are you nervous at all?"

“Nervous?” Bobby asked with all the false bravado he could. Glancing over to the door he looked back at his weakened sister and leaned forward. Whispering, he nodded. “Yeah, a little bit. But I’m going to make it. I’m not afraid.” He grinned at her. Standing, Bobby tweaked the blanket to cover Sheila’s feet better. “Look, I’m going to go downstairs and help. I’ll come back later, all right?”

"Okay." Sheila frowned at her brother, not wanting to be without company. "Let me know if you find out anything, all right? Now go on. I'm sure they will be calling for you any moment."

The thirteen year old nodded and left, but he knew of Sheila's fear so made a stop first. He sent Rosalie up to keep her company. After all, the woman would need to pack Sheila's things, so it was a great excuse. Then Robert O'Neil made his way to the armory to select the armor and weapons he'd need to show his skills in the tourney to come.


	2. A Brother's Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduced Characters & Ages: Eric, 16, Michael, 18 (and their father), and Uni, 16
> 
> Chapter Summary: Eric, severely injured, is traveling to the king's summer home for the summer party and tourney he is to compete in - - in honor of his new betrothal.
> 
> .

The black-haired youth stepped down the staircase one slow step after another. He held his back stiffly with each jarring thud of foot on stone. Stoicism warred with something almost unidentifiable at each shift of his fine linen tunic. His brown-black eyes reflected a deep pool of pain.

Eric Montgomery finally arrived at the ground floor.

Standing at the base of the stairs, arms crossed over his satin and velvet covered chest, Lord Leander Montgomery frowned at the sixteen year old. In a booming voice, meant to carry to everyone working and eating in the vast common room, the tall blond man said, “fell down again, huh?” Lord Montgomery narrowed vivid green eyes, and his voice rose to a louder pitch, the tones harsher, disapproval and disgust dancing a macabre waltz as he glared hatefully at Eric. “You clumsy, useless idiot. How I could have sired such a useless waste of flesh is beyond me. You’ll never be a true knight. A knight requires grace . . . a laughable idea in you. A knight requires poise. A knight does not cry at some minor scrapes from missing a stair or two. Useless! At least your brother is able to walk and talk at the same time. Get outside, boy, and don’t be all day about it!”

Eric spoke not a word in his own defense. Quite used to the verbal abuse from his sire, the knight-in-training merely turned and tried to ignore the screaming fire in his back as he headed to the waiting horses. His mind raced over his options and settled on the knowledge that this last leg of their journey would be extremely painful; nothing he did or said would change the powerful man’s mind about continuing right away.

And threatening to dissolve the betrothal before it was publicly announced had landed him with numerous injuries and an ultimatum: “Marry the little bitch or be disowned as a base-born bastard.” Long after midnight Eric had finally chosen what seemed to be the less of two evils: he would marry a woman he’d never met.

As two servants aided the young man in mounting the placid mare the inn had provided him, Eric tried not to scream. His back roared with fire, his arms ached and shook in weakened protest. The young man reminded himself that he merely had to get on the beast then his strong legs could hold him in place during the hours it would take to get to the palace their king had eccentrically named ‘the Hunting Lodge.’ A tearing pain ripped a scream from the youth and Eric collapsed against one burly stable hand, the young knight’s breath catching in body-shaking sobs.

The elder Montgomery growled in disgust and strode forward, his hard boots striking loudly on the flagstone inn yard.

A second youth, slightly older, a little broader, and a bit sturdier, sprinted over to the other teen, cutting their father off. Michael Montgomery reached his younger brother’s side and signaled to both grooms to leave. “I have this,” he said aloud then whispered “bite your glove, Eric. Don’t scream.”

Taking Michael’s advice, Eric pulled off his leather riding glove with his teeth and stuffed it into his mouth. He drew a deep breath and knew what came next. Painfully, he lifted his arms and gripped the saddle, knuckles whitening.

The muscular eighteen year old grabbed the younger man by the waist and lifted, forcing him up to the saddle of the still placid mare. Eric scrambled ungracefully onto the beast and settled, head bowed, strong legs gripping the horse’s sides. Michael turned just as their father reached the brothers.

In a loud voice, the older youth proclaimed, “again, Father, I humbly apologize for tripping Eric down the steps. I’ll tend his injuries and heal him in time for the King’s Tourney and the betrothal announcement.”

The man drew up to his full six foot height, towering over the five foot nine inch youth. He gripped his belt and frowned up at the youngest Montgomery, still sitting in the saddle with head bowed. Before Lord Montgomery could once more deride Eric’s clumsiness or penchant for showing his pain, the elder brother spoke, voice carrying throughout the inn’s courtyard.

“I’m sorry, Eric. Those bruises must feel as fiery as a dozen lashes.” His voice never changed and his eyes remained steadily on his father’s.

Lord Montgomery stiffened and turned a cold, menacing glare on the older brother.

As if something life-changing hung in the balance, the three Montgomery men remained frozen in place; minute after minute dragged by. Michael and Lord Montgomery only broke eye contact when the innkeeper called from the door, asking after their well-being. The eldest turned away and strode back inside, his manner reminiscent of a thunderstorm about to unleash its full fury.

Michael slumped against the gentle mare and let out his pent up breath. He knew that he’d pushed the line with the veiled threat. He just hadn’t been able to resist letting his father know that at least one person knew what was really happening . . . one person was willing to protect the younger man. He wished he could do more, but there was never any proof, and Lord Montgomery was rich and powerful enough to have almost any naysayer locked away . . . even his own heir.

Eric’s pain-filled voice interrupted Michael’s troubling thoughts. “Close,” he said, “it was more like sixteen. I counted.”

Michael whirled around to look up at his little brother, eyes searching for something unspoken. What he saw nearly broke his heart.

The younger teen had straightened in the saddle, reins clutched properly in one hand, knees gripping lightly to keep his seat. His drawn face showed his efforts to hide his painful injuries once more with mouth pinched and eyes shadowed and almost sunken. Instead of weakness, the younger man’s demeanor radiated tired haughtiness and strict control: the epitome of what their father declared a true knight of the realm should be. Nowhere showed the gentler, kind-hearted, injured youth Eric truly was.

Without comment, Michael nodded and mounted his gelding. Neither suggested waiting for their sire. Rather, silently, the pair began the last leg of their journey to the country palace and the King’s Summer Tourney.

xxx

Upon arriving at the King’s country palace, the Montgomery men stopped their horses on the crest of a hill, looking out over the rolling countryside and thick bordering forests. The palace, set back from the main road by a long drive of crushed rock, rose above four stories. It had been constructed of local stone and glowed a muted golden brown in the afternoon sunlight.

Lord Montgomery eyed the country palace with an eye for soundness and possible hidden wealth. Finally, he signaled his sons to approach the King’s summer home. Distracted by the glorious season spread before him, plans of a favored match to delight the King and a possible second one to enrich himself, the man rode ahead of the younger pair, ignoring them completely. He was not aware of the youngest breaking away and guiding his horse not to the welcoming palace but to the forest’s concealing canopy and refreshing streams.

Free for at least a few minutes, Eric arrived at the side of the water and slid from his horse, hissing at the ripping pain which signaled his wounds had reopened once more. He looped the reins loosely around a low-hanging branch and let his horse do as she might. Ignoring the mare drinking a few feet away, Eric knelt, shaking, by the cool, clear stream. He painfully reached for his belt and began to unfasten it, hissing at the sharp burn and sudden slash of pain as his tunic tore at his recent wounds. Blood once more began to stain his already soaked shirt.

No one ever wandered these parts of the forest by horse. It was always by foot; only a stranger or two ever passed by, which was rare. Hiding behind a tree and trying not to make a sound, Unity watched a young man of royalty remove his blood soaked shirt and the blood that continuously ran down his back.

Hearing him grunt out in pain caused her to slowly walk over to the wounded young man. It was always in her good nature to help the ones that needed it the most. She hated seeing people in pain. Not wanting to startle him, she kept her distance as she called out behind him. "Would you like some help?"

Eric looked up, dark eyes widening at the thought that he was not alone. He held his shirt in his hands, blood running down his back from opened and reopened lash wounds, some deep enough to need stitching. Looking at the young woman before him, he couldn't say a word. She seemed almost ethereal . . . almost one of the faerie folk. Swallowing, he rasped out "who are you?"

"Forgive me. My name is Unity St. Clair. I live at the lodge nearby with my mother, a healer." Pausing, she glanced at his wounds, seeing more blood run down, then looked back at his face. Seeing him start to pale she quickly continued, "I'm also in training. I was supposed to gather these medicines for our supply, but I fear you'll need them more," she said softly as she pulled out her small brown satchel and showed him the leaves. "I can help you, sir, if you'd like."

He looked to the leaves in her satchel then back to her strange colored eyes, nodding almost involuntarily. "I . . ." he cleared his throat and tried again, the hoarseness replaced by his normal baritone, albeit faint with pain and ever increasing weakness. "Thank you, Miss St. Clair." He tried to stand, but fell back to his knees with a groan, flushing for his weakness. "I . . . I don't know how to use those." Eric looked again at the pretty teenager.

Uni stared a little too long, longer than she should have considering that he appeared to be of the royalty. Her beautiful smile suddenly turned into a frown at his weakness. She removed her satchel and set it down on the grass. Picking up her worn out, medium brown skirt, she knelt down beside the youth and the river. "If you don't mind me asking," she said as she tore a good length of cloth from her underskirt, "what is your name?"

He flushed deeper, his dark eyes closing briefly. Upon opening them, he cleared his throat and said, "Eric . . . my name is Eric Montgomery." He tried to keep his eyes up at her face level, trying not to look at the amount of leg exposed by her actions. "You live at the palace?"

Uni blew a strand of her red hair out of her face and swept a strand of her long locks behind her shoulder. "Well, yes. Actually, I live in a nearby cabin in a clearing just beyond those trees," she said while pointing her finger to the left of them then placing her hand back to her lap, grabbing the torn cloth. "Your wounds are getting worse," she noted aloud. Uni placed her hands gently on Eric's shoulders and positioned his back toward her. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself while I tend to them. It would help keep your mind off the pain," she suggested, soaking the torn cloth in the cool river water then bringing it close to his torn skin.

The knight in training winced though her actions hadn't hurt. His move had been reflexive, as if he was used to being hurt instead of helped. With a grimace for his own weakness, Eric slowly turned, fully exposing the long welts, open and bleeding, criss-crossing over old scarring. "I'm . . . I'm here for the Summer Tourney. I'm supposed to earn my spurs." He sighed. "I don't like the joust." He paused then asked, a wistful note in his voice, "do you plan to attend the tourney, Uni . . . uh . . . Miss St. Clair?" His face, ears, and neck flushed brightly in embarrassment.

"You can call me Uni if you'd like." She smiled. "Now just try to relax." She cleaned the cloth in the water then pressed it against one of the lashes on his right shoulder. "I will be attending the tourney along with my mother. She has three patients to see, including the King himself." Uni placed her hand on Eric's left arm and stared at his bloodied back, wondering what happened to the teen. She had seen worse wounds than this, but there was always a heroic tale, an act of bravery, and even in worse cases, a horrific accident to go along with it. The gentleman before her didn't look any of the sort of that, nor was he eager to tell his story. She feared it was something much worse. Ignoring the thoughts as soon as they came, she quickly rinsed the cloth again and then touched a mark and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. "Do you have any siblings?"

Eric clenched his teeth, hands grabbing at the ground before him as pain ripped through his back. "Yes . . ." he panted, ending on a sob. "Mich . . . ael's . . . to be . . . knight . . . ed . . . at the . . . tour . . . ney." He finally leaned forward, away from her ministering hands, and put his forehead on the ground between his now dirty hands. "Sor . . . ry," he whispered, voice broken.

"No, don't. I'm the one who should be saying sorry." Her voice was just above a whisper. "I should have just taken you to my mother. . . All I've caused you is more pain. Your wounds are deep, and most of them look like they might need stitching." Uni frowned. "I don't have any of those supplies needed if you wanted me to continue." She paused for a long moment, trying to collect her thoughts. Eric was in a lot of pain. Normally she would continue on treating the patient against any protest, but Eric was of some type of royalty and she'd have to follow his wishes. One wrong move and he could possibly have her thrown in prison. "All that these leaves can do is fight the infection your wounds might have. They'll start the healing process and keep anything from sticking to them. It will last a day or two before it needs to be cleaned and changed. If you have a more trusting wiseman to go to, then I suggest you go there and have him treat you. That's all I can offer you." After a moment passed, she soaked the cloth in the river again and waited for his answer.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Eric opened his eyes and pushed up from the ground, easing back to a kneeling position. He turned to look at the pretty redhead, feeling like a cowardly weakling, like his father often called him. Opening his mouth, the young man never got a chance to reply.

"Eric!" Lord Montgomery strode heavily through the trees, scaring wildlife and damaging plants as he made his way to the stream. "Damn useless fool! Get your ass up to the palace and present yourself to the king!" The tall man broke through several branches and missed a step as he saw the teen his son was in company with. "Who is this?"

Rather than give either young person a chance to introduce Uni, Lord Montgomery turned the full force of his anger on his younger son. "You, get to your feet this instant! Get dressed!" He shot a glare towards the redhead then back to his son. "You have no time for whoring!"

Eric's head shot up and backwards as if struck, and his brown-black eyes widened. Clenching his fists, the youth said, "Father . . ."

Lord Montgomery cut him off. "Shut your mouth and get out of here before I have her thrown in prison for prostitution." He grabbed his son roughly and yanked him to his feet, ignoring Uni and the fine blue linen tunic Eric left on the ground. "Go home, girl!" He unwound the reins of his son’s horse and gripped them firmly, guiding the placid beast as the angry nobleman pushed his son before him from the stream and into the trees, ignoring the added scratches and tears Eric received from the grabbing branches.

By the slow running water, next to the bloody tunic, lay Eric's gold colored over-tunic and the tooled leather belt with the ivory embroidery of a griffon.

Uni was shocked and stunned in place, staring off into the trees where Eric and his father had just passed. She could still hear his raging voice, but the words were unclear due to nature coming back to life after the loud disturbance. Her heart beat fast with the anger running through her body. She wasn’t the type to judge someone she had just met or didn’t talk to, but she did have a good sense of good and wrong when it came down to it. Seeing Eric's father treat him in a horrible manner told her that wasn't a good man at all, ignoring his high status completely.

Witnessing the verbal and physical abuse was painful and it wasn't unnecessary. Of his class there should be no reason, but it wasn’t her place to say. His father seemed rude even if they were in a hurry to arrive to the King. He hadn’t let either one of them introduce her. He called her a whore and that stung her just as much as being slapped by a man. She wasn't that low. If only fear hadn't gotten to her, she would have told him she was a healer; she was helping his son, not providing filthy entertainment.

His son wasn’t in any condition to be forced, hurtfully even, to be on their way to the palace. Hearing Eric’s cries alone sent pain to her own heart. That was something no patient she helped had done before, though the screams and cries, moans and whimpers were nothing new to her. It was as if there was something more to them than just pain.

Turning around, finally, Uni looked over at the two different tunics and leather belt near the river. No matter what the cost may be, she wanted to help the teen and know that he would be okay. Bending down to pick up the forgotten clothes, she decided to bring them home with her in case Eric's father had some sympathy to tend to his son's needs before they continued on. Before going her own way home, she decided to make a visit to the only person she could go to for anything, hoping he may know more information about the two people she encountered and the clothing gathered in her arms.


	3. Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduced Characters & Ages: Hank, 17, Varla, 16, and her father
> 
> Chapter Summary: Uni goes to Hank and Varla for help, and they encounter someone else who appears to need help. Sheila meets the Montgomerys.
> 
> .

Approaching the simple cottage snuggled at the edge of the forest's embrace, the tall blond youth smiled and let out a warning trill. His light blue eyes scanned the cabin and attached vegetable patch as he sounded the series of notes which would alert the inhabitants to his identity. His green tunic, brown trousers and boots, and the stag deer he carried for delivery aided him in blending into the trees, and it was wise to give forewarning when coming upon a woodsman's dwelling, thus the musical whistle.

Beside the small cowshed, a man of indeterminable years glanced up and scanned his visitor with narrowed grey eyes. Wiping a dirt-stained wrist across his sweating forehead, the grey-haired woodsman in simple homespun clothing let out a grunt and turned back to the beast he tended. His gruff voice sounded out, “Daughter, go tend to Hank.”

Hank smiled in response but didn't say anything, merely adjusting the weight of the animal across his back.

Hearing her close friend and her father's words, the sixteen year old teen quickly finished folding the dry clothes that hung on a line and then made herself visible. "Certainly, father." Varla smiled at Hank as she gestured toward the right of them. 

Jaref nodded once and turned back to working on the heifer’s knee.

For his part Hank gave a smile to the other teen, even if it wasn't quite visible with his neck and head bowed under the weight of the buck. "I've brought the month's meat, Varla. Shall I bring it to the smokehouse?"

Before Varla could answer the tall blond, her father glanced over with a frown. "Lead him, daughter, the path's strewn with bracken this spring. Been meaning to clean it out, but I haven't had time with that rash of poaching we're dealing with." His voice rang with disapproval but he didn't stop his work with the young cow.

Hank's voice came softly to Varla. "Do you need help clearing the brush, Varla?" He followed behind, despite knowing the way from years of living in the next cottage. Once at the small smoke house, he hung the already gutted deer from the central ceiling hook and washed his hands quickly in the bucket of water on hand by the door. Turning, he smiled at the young woman, noting how her long red hair was braided that day.

"New hairstyle, Varla?"

Varla smiled at the notice. "Mother wanted me to try something new today. It's different. In a way, I'm much cooler than having my hair loose in this heat. I didn't like it at first, but now it's growing on me." She waved her long braid around with her hand. 

A knock at the door interrupted Varla's next comment. Knowing that if it had been her father, he would enter without hesitation; she went to and opened the door, seeing Uni standing there, holding two tunics of some sort and a belt.

"Thank goodness it's you two. I saw you both walk by, but I wasn't sure where you were headed." Uni paused to catch her breath. "I didn't want to disturb your father. I witnessed an awful thing not even an hour ago."

With a frown, Hank reached out to place a calming hand on the other redhead's shoulder. "Take a couple of deep breaths, Unity, and tell me what you saw. Are you hurt? Is someone in trouble?" Being one of the King's woodsmen, Hank's duty lay in protecting the animals from poachers, the forest from destruction, and the inhabitants from thieves and highwaymen. He slipped his bow from his back, and lifted his hand from Uni’s shoulder so he could bend the bow in order to string it.

"No. Well. . ." Uni sighed heavily, almost dropping a tunic on the ground. "I don't know."

Varla looked at the clothing her friend was holding and noticed her arms were tired. Offering to take them from Uni she asked, "what are those?"

"It's a bit of a long story." Uni handed Varla the two tunics and belt and followed her over to a nearby wooden table then leaned against it. "I was out gathering herbs for my mother since we were running low and then I saw this teen close to your height, Henry, down by the river. He had these horrible lashes all over his back, deep and bloody. I've never seen them that bad before." Her violet eyes glanced at the clothing on the table then back at her friends. "Blood was everywhere, down his back, all over his tunic. I don't know what could have caused the marks. 

"Hearing him in pain, I had to help him. I had the right herb for it. Or I thought I did until I started to clean the deep wounds. Before I could apply the leaves, his father came marching out of nowhere, ordering him to hurry to the King's palace and not caring that his son was hurt and in pain. He didn't bother to give a pleasant greeting. He'd rather give horrible assumptions than the truth." Uni shook her head and took a deep breath, remembering the harsh words the father used. "Then he told him to dress, but before his son could gather his belongings he urged him on and he left those." Uni hung her head low, causing her long red hair to cover her face. After a moment she added quietly, "I'm worried about him. He seemed nice."

Hank nodded and checked his arrows, still preparing to defend his friends and home, then turned back to Uni. “His father made him go to the palace and ignored his injuries,” he repeated to be certain of the facts. Reaching over, he took the belt, powder blue eyes widening as he fingered the ivory embedded in the leather. “A griffon?” Hank looked troubled and turned to Varla. “Montgomery?”

“As in Lord Montgomery?" Varla asked while returning his gaze. 

"That makes sense. Eric mentioned he had a brother named Michael, and said nothing of his father. He was dressed in fine clothes." Uni ran her fingers over the tunic again. "I really hope he'll be okay," she said, voice low and worried. 

"Eric Montgomery is the younger son," Hank informed Uni. "He's my age." The blond frowned, eye towards the castle, as if he could see into the building to the people inside. "And he was injured?" Hank handed the belt back to Uni and touched the blood-soaked satin tunic. "How badly, Uni?"

Uni took the belt and gripped it tightly. "His cuts were deep and his skin was beginning to bruise underneath all the blood. There was so much blood and it wouldn't stop running down. I don't know what could have happened to give him such horrible wounds."

Having seen many types of injuries in both his time as king’s woodsman and his father’s time as king’s wardkeeper, Hank feared he knew exactly what Uni had described. He let his hand drop from the rich, yet destroyed, cloth. “It sounds as if . . .” Hank paused then softly finished, “he was beaten, Uni.” Looking back towards the castle, Hank narrowed his pale blue eyes, reviewing his possible actions. Finally, he shook his head. “We don’t know who might have hurt him. You said Eric’s father made him go up to the lodge? His behavior was offensive, uncaring?” Hank looked back at the pale redhead. “Can you recall anything specific he said or did?”

"He called his own son a fool which I think he did nothing to deserve such a comment. He ordered him to get dressed and be on his way." Uni's back stiffened as she tightened her firsts. "He even made a nasty assumption."

Varla placed a comforting hand on Uni's arm. "What on earth of?" 

"He didn't notice that I was helping Eric. He was too focused on their trip which is understandable since it's important. And . . . he called me a whore." Uni sighed in frustration. She didn't want to mention being called a whore to her friends. She tried not to let it bother here but truth was, it did. "It was awful, the look on his face when he said it. Everything. Sure he was shirtless and I was close by him, more than I should be, unaccompanied, but I was tending him. It all happened so fast. One moment his father is ordering him about and then they were on their way." 

His frown matched hers, as Hank turned to study his friend. Finally, he put a gentle hand to her shoulder. “He wouldn’t say such a thing if he knew you, Unity. I understand the king intends to hold a tourney to honor some of his friends. There is even talk of a wedding at the end of summer. The Montgomerys are most probably here for that. Lord Montgomery would be distracted by thoughts of how his son would present to the king.” Hank didn’t like his own explanation, but it made the most sense. He looked again to the clothes. “And to find his son half dressed with an unknown woman must have been something of a shock. Lord Montgomery wouldn’t know that you’re our local healer.”

With a soft smile, Hank lifted his hand and busily unstrung his bow now he knew the danger was past. “I wouldn’t hold it against you if you refuse to come to the lodge to continue assisting Eric, Uni. We can see if your mother is up to coming instead, if you’d rather not meet with the Montgmerys again.” Hank looked up to meet Uni’s eyes, not once looking at Varla as his ploy to let Uni once more see the young man she’d tried to heal was rather evident.

"No, I'll go. I need to see him again." Uni smiled slightly. "Maybe I'll ask my mother to come along. I couldn't treat him with what I had in my pouch. He could be even worse by now and she might have a better way of treating him than I had intended." 

“Well, if I might escort both of you to the lodge?” Hank slung his bow onto his back and offered an arm each to Uni and Varla.

"You may," Varla said, smiling at him as she and Uni both took Hank's offered arms. 

xxx

With a worried frown, Sir Richard watched as his wife and son descended from the carriage. His daughter, Sheila, had been sleeping most of the journey and seemed pale and weak. Perhaps he should have refused his king’s offer of medical assistance and kept the girl home a few more days? He absently let his fingers work over the decorative hilt of his very lethal broadsword.

Bobby turned to look into the carriage at his sister, blue eyes concerned. He backed out of her way so she could exit the vehicle but was distracted by a noise and turned, his back to the weakened girl.

Being in the closed space with her family, the heat she felt over her worsened, making the ride unpleasant. Sheila felt lightheaded and nauseous as she straightened her posture. Rising up to exit the carriage, her dizziness made her lose her balance, causing her hand to hit the inside of the carriage to catch herself. She stopped for a moment to allow the spell to pass. As she recollected herself, she gripped the side of her blue skirt and tried to step out of the carriage as carefully as possible.

Noticing the trouble the young woman seemed to be having, Hank dropped both Uni and Varla’s arms and stepped forward to lightly grip the unknown redhead’s arm. He offered a gentle smile as he softly said, “easy, m’lady. I have you. Lean on me.”

"Thank you," Sheila said, her voice barely audible and letting her shyness and fever get the better of her. She lightly returned the grip of the handsome blonde next to her, stumbling as they walked. 

Hank caught her securely and waited while she regained her balance. “Shall I help you to the lodge, m’lady?” The woodsman found himself fascinated with the soft-spoken teal-eyed beauty. He’d been surrounded by beautiful girls his entire life, but something about this one drew him like no other. He suddenly wanted to know her name but knew he had no right to introduce himself.

Not wanting to draw more attention to his daughter’s illness, Sir Richard merely nodded as if the young blond had been expected the entire time. He knew Sir Tobias’ son Henry as a good lad who worked hard. He would be an unexceptionable escort for this moment. Of course, being the son of the king’s warder and favored woodsman would stand him in good stead with many a father, but he held nothing on the lands, wealth, and royal familiar connection of the Montgomerys, so Richard saw the lad as nothing more than a kind helper in his daughter’s moment of weakness. It should have been her brother helping, but he wouldn’t make a fuss in public.

Sheila could only nod at the tall blond as he continued to help her to the lodge. She blushed instantly and knew it was foolish that she was happy it wasn't her younger brother helping her, knowing that he could step in at any moment at their father's command. Deep down inside Sheila felt a warm tingly feeling like she once read in a book, but didn't think much of it as she was unsure of it being from the fever or the young teen next to her. She then decided to take notice of how muscular his arm was just by her own grip even though it was wrong to think about such a thing as they were both strangers to one another. After all, her father took away her freedom without a discussion and her approval. He could very well be the last boy of her possible standards she would ever meet before she was to be taken.

Suddenly noticing the other two redheaded young women, Bobby straightened and flushed lightly, embarrassed he’d ignored them so far. He looked towards his sister then back at the other ladies and cleared his throat. Offering his arms chivalrously, Bobby said, “may I escort you ladies?”

His father nodded and offered his arm to his wife, watching his son’s behavior but trying to keep his eye on his daughter as well. The lad, Henry, was all that was polite and respectful, so Richard turned back to his son and heir.

Varla saw Uni take the young boy's arm and decided to do the same. "Thank you," she said, smiling at him. In front of them, she watched Hank help a young girl around her age. She wasn't sure if it was love at first sight, but by his actions alone, she hoped that maybe he had finally found the one for him. 

Quite oblivious to the five people behind them, Hank had his total attention on the pale woman on his arm. He moved at a pace she seemed able to match but watched for signs of quick fatigue. As she seemed to stumble more than once, Hank stopped regularly to let her rest. Keeping his voice soft and light, he spoke, “this is a pretty time of year to visit the Lodge. The gardens are blooming . . . including the Moon Garden.”

"I. . ." Sheila paused, trying to catch her breath and her nerves for a moment. Continuing on lightly, she said, "I would like to visit that sometime. It sounds lovely." She smiled up at him then stared a little too long into his blue eyes. 

“Perhaps your mother could accompany you?” He smiled, stopping once more for her to regain herself. “The rose arbor over the fountain stream is relaxing.” At the foot of the steps, he stopped her again and looked up the long flight of stone stairs. Looking at the lady he accompanied, Hank knew the trip would probably be too much for her, but he couldn’t dishonor her by picking her up. They weren’t even acquainted. Finally, he helped her up the first step then paused, knowing they would take a long time to enter the palace, but there was hardly another way unless the woman’s father, brother, or husband carried her. Rather, to save her embarrassment, he gestured with a well-tanned hand towards the edge of the crushed rock drive. “See the violets and bluebells at the border of the Morning Garden?”

Sheila looked over to where the handsome blond gestured. "Oh my, they are beautiful." She stared at the flowers and wondered if her mother would care for a walk through the Morning Garden or not. She smiled at the thought then frowned, knowing she wasn't here to see beautiful things but to marry a man she didn't know and to be a wife. Turning her gaze to the long flight of stairs ahead, she frowned. She wasn't sure how she would make it in one piece. She was just thankful that she had this nice, caring and handsome young man helping her to the top and hoped, secretly, that no one else would intervene. 

“Perhaps when you are feeling better you might be able to walk among them,” Hank suggested. He looked down at the woman on his arm and caught his breath at those lovely teal eyes.

The sound of a strong baritone interrupted the small, slow paced group. “Well come, Sir Richard.” Tall and blond, with intelligent green eyes and a muscular build, Lord Montgomery stood at the top of the steps, imposing, impressive.

Sir Richard looked up and smiled at the other man. “Lord Montgomery. It is good to meet once more.”

With a nod, Lord Montgomery accepted the greeting but caught sight of Sheila and began to watch her intently, a small frown on his face at the pale woman on the blond’s arm.

Once the group stopped at the welcome, Varla and Uni exchanged a quick glance while remaining on the young boy's arm. Uni knew the unspoken question written on Varla's face. Uni gave a quick nod to her friend and saw her smile quickly fade into the answer. Both girls looked back at Lord Montgomery.

Lord Montgomery seemed fake to Uni. Seeing him being warm and welcoming now compared to being cruel and harsh a few short hours ago, made her dislike them even more. Now that she knew for sure he was Eric's father, she knew that the son couldn't be too far away and that very thought filled her with a bit of happiness she hadn't felt before.

Sheila looked up to Lord Montgomery and unknowingly tightened her grip on the blond's arm. She didn't know why he seemed to frighten her even though he appeared to be warm and friendly. Trying to listen to the conversation among them, her dizziness caused her to lean more on the tall blond, causing them to lose their balance, but regaining it quickly. "Sorry," she mumbled. She felt her cheeks flush and hoped it'd go unnoticed due to her fever. 

Hank offered a gentle smile. “Not at all, m’lady. Take your time. These steps are steep after a long journey.” He could feel the fever in her skin and worry shot through the young man. He puzzled over why the family would force someone so ill to travel.

Bobby looked from one girl to the other on his arms and offered a smile, despite his uncertainty at their silent communications. Finally, he asked. “Are you ladies visiting the King?” It was a rather obvious answer, he thought, since they were at the palace, but he felt he had to say something.

Lord Montgomery watched as the pale redhead made her slow way up the steps on the arm of the Warder’s son. He didn’t like the looks that passed between the two, but he didn’t bring attention to it. After all, soon enough she would be on Eric’s arm and the other lad would have to back off. A noise behind him drew the rich Lord’s attention and he glanced back with a soft frown. His expression changed to relief as he turned back towards the people on the steps. With one hand, he signaled to the youth behind him.

“Sir Richard, have you met my son?” He gestured again and a dark-haired youth in gold and sapphire stepped forward, straight and tall, dark eyes taking in the entire scene.

Yes of course," Varla said. She smiled at the young boy then looked back to the rich Lord and his son, wondering if he was the one Uni helped. 

Uni nodded in agreement as she watched Lord Montgomery reveal his son. Something seemed off as she stared at the presented teen, and it bothered her that she couldn't figure it out. She wasn't sure if it was the clothing he wore or his height and the way he stood there with no sign of being injured a few short hours ago. A small smile crept on her face as she thought of the possibility of the rich Lord finding a wiser healer for his son who seemed to be well at last.

Sheila nodded, unsure of what to say to the blond helping her. He was so kind to her. She never had anyone be this kind to her besides the members in her family and her maid. She only hoped that the man she was to marry would be just a kind as him or more. While continuing on, her teal eyes stared up ahead at the older man and his son. 

Sir Richard looked up to the men at the top of the steps. He smiled, masking his confusion as to which son was being presented. “Of course, how are you . . .” taking a chance that Lord Montgomery would be presenting the son who was engaged to Sheila, Richard finished, “Eric?”

Michael bowed slightly, politely, smiling in a friendly fashion. “Very well, Sir Richard, thank you. I trust the journey went well?” His smile dropped away as he spotted the overly pale, weak redhead. Knowing this must be Sir Richard’s daughter, and Eric’s betrothed, Michael took advantage of the mistaken identity and rushed down to her other side. “Let me assist you, Henry.” He gently swung Sheila into his strong arms, ignoring the indignant look on his father’s face and turned for the steps.

Hank followed silently, studying the man’s back and knowing instantly that it couldn’t be the same youth Uni had met in the woods. This one had no injuries . . . at least none as bad as she had described, or he’d be bleeding with his exertions.

Angry at his eldest son’s deception but unwilling to point out the problem and embarrass Sir Richard or the O’Neil’s, Lord Montgomery merely stiffened and nodded. “Take her to the ladies’ wing, Eric.”

Sheila felt faint by being moved so quickly, unexpectedly. She was relieved that she didn't have to continue walking up the many steps, but she didn't know the dark-haired youth carrying her and felt uncomfortable. She would much rather be next to the blond youth she now knew the name of, regardless of how she felt. 

Uni was shocked, knowing now that the teen next to Lord Montgomery was Eric's brother and not himself. Eric wouldn't have been able to carry the young redhead after treatment so quickly. She wondered where he was at the moment and frowned, letting her worries for him trouble her more. 

At the sudden change of events, Sir Richard hurried his wife up past Bobby, Varla, and Uni, past Hank, and close behind Michael and Sheila. They didn’t know the two redheads, and they weren’t aware that this was not Eric, but his older brother. Sir Richard only knew he needed to get his daughter to a bed and his wife to her side as chaperone. She couldn’t be left alone, even with her betrothed.

Dropping back to walk next to Varla, Uni, and Bobby, Hank offered an arm to Uni. Softly, he asked “who is she?”

Bobby let the girl switch escorts, but he answered anyway, “My sister, Sheila. I’m Bobby . . . uh, Robert, son of Sir Richard. I’m to test for knight training. Sheila’s . . .” he shut his mouth, not liking the idea that she was engaged to the grumpy man at the top of the stairs. The man had a grown up son, after all!

Michael adjusted the girl in his arms, trying to make her more comfortable as he carried her. Softly, so they weren’t overheard, he said “Miss Sheila? My name is Sir Michael. My brother is Eric, but he’s also not well. The journey was incredibly rough on him as well. Please don’t embarrass me by revealing my secret?” What he hoped she’d understand was that he was really trying not to embarrass Richard, her father, for the man’s mistake. After all, most knights didn’t mistaken their fellow knights for younger brother trainees.

Sheila thought it was rather strange, but decided not to dwell on it. All she wanted was to change her clothes, to relieve herself from the heat she felt, and lay down in a bed. Taking in what Sir Michael had asked, she understood and felt she owed him for carrying her to her visiting chambers. "You have my word." She smiled softly. "Your secret is safe with me."

Michael flashed her a heartwarming smile then carried her into the palace itself and headed for the grand staircase to bring her up the two floors to the wing assigned to the visiting ladies. It wasn’t long before he had her in the beautifully appointed room and eased her under the covers, which her maid hastily pulled out of the way. After the young knight had settled the young woman, he stepped back and bowed. “The King has an ice house and has instructed that his guests are to be accorded every desire.” He bowed to the O’Neils then stepped quickly out of the room, not wanting to push propriety further than he had stepping into his injured brother’s place. Eric was still in his guest room, trying to regain his strength from his loss of blood after the journey and apparently their father’s rough handling.

In the hall, Michael stopped in front of Hank, Uni, Varla, and Bobby, and smiled at them all. Bowing, he asked, “Henry, would you introduce me to your lovely friends and this young knight?”

Bobby grinned, flushing at the honor of being called a knight even if he wasn’t yet one, and felt this guy already knew that.

Varla smiled brightly at the older youth before her and her friends. She was excited to be introduced to another unknown knight.

Uni eyed the dark haired youth in front of her. Knowing it wasn't Eric at all, her violet eyes met his as she asked, "You aren't the one I met earlier today, are you?" She knew it wasn't the right time or place to ask, but she wanted answers. 

With a sudden light of recognition in his brown-black eyes, Michael smiled at the pretty, pale redhead. “So, you’re the young lady he wanted to apologize to. He is heartily ashamed of what you witnessed and the insults you suffered and begs your forgiveness, my lady.” With that Michael bowed at the waist, one arm in front of his chest, the other behind his back, eyes downcast in humility on behalf of his injured brother.

"Please let him know that it's quite alright." Uni smiled slightly. "How is he now? Is he doing any better?" She knew it still wasn't her place to ask such a thing, but she couldn't stop herself from asking.

With a smile for Hank, Michael straightened and reached over, gently transferring Uni’s hand to his own arm. “If you’d like, I can introduce you, if Henry would finish our introductions, naturally.”

Blinking in surprise, then smiling slightly, Hank offered, “of course. Sir Michael, this is Miss Unity, our local healer, Miss Varla, daughter of Sir Jaref, and Master Robert, son of Sir Richard.” Hank turned back to Uni and finished, “Ladies, Robert, this is Sir Michael Montgomery, cousin to our king.”

Michael gave Uni another smile as Bobby rocked on his heels, excited to be included in this older group. Hank seemed content at the moment.

Uni returned the smile, and took up his offer. She was happy that she was able to see Eric again. "Thank you." 

Varla remained silent with a smile still on her face, not wanting to say anything foolish in the presence of royalty. 

Giving a small smile for the other three young people, Michael led Uni down the hall.


	4. Remedies and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduced Characters & Ages: Freddie, 16 and Presto, 16
> 
> Chapter Summary: Finally, Uni finds help for Eric’s wounds.
> 
> .

Resting in the grand bed, the windows thrown wide open to let the warm spring breeze scent the room with fragrance, Eric turned his head towards the sunshine and fresh air, eyes closed. He had been cleaned up and dressed in fresh linen under-trousers, feet and torso bare as he lay in the bed. His back remained un-bandaged in an effort to let the deep lashes heal, since changing bandages would reopen the wounds. Hearing the door open, hearing the confident step of his brother but missing the softer step accompanying Michael’s, Eric didn’t bother to open his eyes. Rather he called softly, his voice filled with pain and exhaustion, “Thank you, Michael. Was father angry I didn’t go down to meet them?”

Michael smiled at Uni but turned a look of pure worry on his little brother. The young woman might not have gotten a good look at Eric’s injuries in the woods; she wouldn’t be much of a healer if she couldn’t identify those deep marks over old scars as that of continual whippings with heavy leather and sometimes thick wooden switches. His voice sounded equally quiet as he answered “Sir Richard thought I was you, so Father went along with it. But, yes, he was livid. I’ll answer to him later.”

Uni didn't like the what was being said. Apparently their father was harsh towards both of his sons, but more on the youngest. Feeling out of place, she asked hesitantly, "Are you sure now is a good time?"

Eric’s eyes flew open at the sound of the gentle voice. “Miss Unity?” He flushed from his ears across his face, bright red in embarrassment that his brother had escorted the pretty healer into his room without warning. Eric was in his underwear! The youth started trying to feel around for a blanket to cover his indecent appearance, wincing at the pain shooting through his once more reopening wounds.

“Hello, Eric." Uni smiled at him then looked away immediately, blushing, as she saw that he was barely covered. She'd seen him before in a similar state, but now it seemed inappropriate for her to be alone with two young men without a chaperone. She glimpsed at Eric again, seeing the pain he was in, and looked back at the floor. "I'm not carrying anything to treat you with." She frowned. "Perhaps you have a healer here or nearby who could tend to you?"

Eric stopped trying to cover up and looked helplessly at the red-haired girl. “I’m . . . uh . . . I’m sorry for what Father said about you, Unity.” He continued to blush but began to relax as his brother walked over and pulled a light covering over his waist and legs. As Michael stepped back, Eric asked, “how did you find me?” The youth flushed brightly again, embarrassed that he asked such a question.

Uni looked back at Eric, finding it easier now that he was covered up properly. She smiled at the question. "Your kind brother led me to you."

Michael smiled. “I’m sure you can get healing supplies from the Alchemist, Miss Unity. Have you had the chance to meet him?”

"Of course." Uni smiled. "I've known him ever since I started my training. Is he around at all?"

“I’ll go get him, shall I?” Yes, it was highly improper to leave the pair alone together, but Michael had seen the flare of interest in his brother’s eyes. True, Eric was betrothed to Miss Sheila, but Michael could find a way to stop that if his brother became serious about the pretty healer, if only to see the youth happy for once. Michael would also have to figure out how to get the lad out of their severe father’s control. Without giving the pair a chance to respond, Michael slipped from the room, shutting the door and locking it. There was one thing their father respected, at least if he wasn’t angry: a locked door.

Eric wanted to drop through the bed. Why had Michael left them alone? If they were caught, people might think he compromised her and force them to marry.

At that thought, he covered his flushed face with a hand, trying to pull his mind away from the totally indecent idea of holding the girl in his arms in bed. Even if he would go as far as to abuse the girl’s trust by compromising her, the squire knew he wouldn’t have the strength to do so. He felt she must think of him as some weak child to be beaten by his father and be stuck in bed, bleeding.

Before Uni could protest, Michael had gone. Now she was alone with Eric in his room, and anyone could find them and think many things about the situation. Somehow she felt relaxed. She trusted his older brother even though she only knew him for a few minutes. She could tell he cared deeply for his younger brother.

The redhead couldn't stop herself from taking in the sight of him. She thought him attractive with his dark hair and those eyes . . . she felt that she could lose herself in them. She wanted to comfort him, run her fingers through his hair and make him look at her and read his face. She wanted to tell him everything would be fine even if she couldn't promise it. Uni blushed at those thoughts, unsure where they came from. She hardly knew him. After clearing her head of such things she asked, "How are you holding up?" She already knew the answer, but wanted to break the silence and thought it was a start.

Eric looked up at the gentle question and met her unusual colored eyes. Trying to pull himself together, he answered rather nonchalantly, “oh, the same as ever. I’m spoiled enough to spend the day in bed, don’t you know?” He flushed at the reference to bed.

"Maybe you should," Uni said frankly. "You shouldn't be doing anything but resting and allowing your wounds to heal." Her eyes scanned around the large room for a place to sit, knowing that his older brother might not be back anytime soon and that sitting on Eric's bed would be improper. She wasn't even sure if she was able to sit while they waited for his return.

As she looked around, Eric let his eyes rove over the well-appointed room, the solid wooden furniture, and the gilt and tapestry hung walls. He looked at her again. “Thank you for tending me earlier, Miss Unity.” His voice had dropped to a soft baritone.

"Please, there's no need. I was hardly able to help you." Admitting that, Uni felt her face flush and sighed. "I'm just glad to know that you have others around who are able to tend you better than I did."

“Uh . . .” the young trainee knight looked around the bed chamber and spotted a wooden chair with an embroidered slip cover. “Would you like to sit?” He turned his head towards the chair and sighed slightly. It hurt less to look in that direction than to twist to see the girl nearby.

Spotting the slip covered chair, she wondered how she overlooked it in the grand room. "Thank you," she said softly as she walked over to the chair. She sat down quietly and comfortably then fidgeted with her brown skirt before looking up at the boy.

Meeting her eyes, offering a nervous smile, Eric asked, “how long have you been a healer?”

Uni tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. "Almost three years now."

Before Eric could think up anything more to say, the door lock unlatched. His eyes flew to the door, fearing that his father had, for once, decided to break his own respect of locked doors. As the wooden door swung open, Eric stiffened, hissing at the pain that tore through his stiff, fiery painful back.

But it wasn’t Lord Montgomery on the other side of the door. Michael had returned, and with him came a thin, almost delicate looking youth with ginger colored hair, slightly gapped buck teeth, eye lenses, and an over-sized green robe over green trousers and soft-soled shoes. He smiled and pushed his lenses up his nose, striding over to Eric’s bedside and pushing up the sleeves of his robe, exposing thin arms. “Hello, Uni . . . uh, Unity. So, you’re my patient? I’m Albert, but most people call me Presto.” He grinned widely.

Unfamiliar with the new teen, and self-conscious around strangers, Eric stayed stiff, his voice taking on an arrogant tone. “You’re no older than I am. How can you be a healer?” His question was almost comical since he had easily accepted Uni as a healer, despite their similarities in ages.

Michael rolled his eyes and gestured with a strong hand towards Presto. “He’s the alchemist’s apprentice and has been since birth. Shut up and behave.” Michael’s tone was gentle, not severe.

Uni sighed softly while straightening up in the wooden seat. "Hello, Presto." She gave a welcoming smile then looked back to Eric. "I've known Presto since I was young. He's very talented in what he does." She hoped that would reassure him.

The bedridden boy flushed once more and shut his mouth, allowing Presto to move the sheet away from his lower back. After a couple of seconds, Presto whistled low between his teeth. “Wooden switch . . . thick, too, not much give.” He carefully wiped away blood and frowned fiercely. “Metal rod?” His head snapped back as if he had been struck along with Eric. “You need stitching. Some of these won’t heal right unless I close them.” He looked at Uni. “You know how to help me, right, Uni?”

Uni winced at Presto's words. She frowned, knowing now her suspicion was right about Eric's wounds needing stitching. "Yes," she answered, but she didn't want to be the one to do the stitching and cause him more pain.

Finally, Presto nodded. He pulled open his robe and pulled out a large pouch sewn to the inside of the robe. Opening the pouch, he pulled out a folded packet of leaves, a stoppered lead flask, and a ceramic jar sealed with wax. Looking up, he asked, “Uni do you have a sewing basket here? I need catgut thread and a strong curved needle.”

"No. I'm sorry." Uni frowned in disappointment. "I was too concerned about other things that I forgot to grab some of my own belongings." She glanced at Eric then back at her friend. "Maybe I can find someone quickly who might have one." She'd search the whole palace if need be.

Presto nodded. “That’ll be good.” He didn’t look up as he turned to pour water from a pitcher into the accompanying washbowl.

Uni stood from her seat. "I'll be back shortly," she said as she made her way to the door. As she opened it, she looked back at Eric and added, "you're in good hands." She smiled a reassuring smile then exited out the door, closing it carefully without making a sound.

In the hall, the sound of steady footsteps came down the stone corridor. Rounding a corner, a tall husky young man, built for war, stopped suddenly, surprised to find a woman, even their local healer, in the men’s wing. His sleepy looking brown eyes widened in shock and he lifted a calloused, well-tanned hand to push his shaggy brown-black hair from his line of sight. “Unity?”

Uni whirled around and pressed her back against the door, bringing a hand to her chest and gasping aloud. Her alarm changed to relief as she recognized the familiar face. "Frederick, what are you doing here?"

A wide smile split his friendly face and crinkles appeared around his soulful brown eyes. “I live here? Next room over is mine. Come to visit Henry?” There was no accusation in his voice at the assumption.

"Of course." Uni paused for a long moment. She knew she couldn't tell him what she was doing here. It already looked wrong that she was in the men's wing, outside Eric's room. "Right." She flushed in embarrassment.

Freddie threw back his head and laughed delightedly. He looked back at his long-time friend and nodded. “So, here to visit someone other than Henry. Is he one of the . . .” suddenly he stopped and tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Uni? What’s wrong? Your hands are bleeding . . .” he stepped closer to grab her wrists firmly but not painfully, frowning.

Uni pulled her wrists away from his grip and started to wipe the blood off her hands with her skirt. "I'm fine, Freddie. Really." She sighed in frustration when she saw her hands were stained red, hating the fact that she hadn't bother to clean them before she left. "I don't think it concerns you anyways." It pained her to say it, but she didn't want more people knowing, afraid that the information could fall into the wrong hands quickly. She let out another frustrated sigh and frowned.

Freddie frowned further. He could see that the blood wasn’t hers after all. “I’m your friend, Unity St. Clair. If you need help, I am here to serve.” He looked behind her at the door she stood against then back to her. “So, you’re here to heal someone? Why didn’t you just say so? Everyone knows you’re the finest healer in this shire. How can I help?” He still frowned, upset that Uni felt she couldn’t trust him.

"I'm not actually." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry," she began. Uni knew she could trust him, but she was too worried about the trouble that would follow if word got out that someone was tending to Lord Montgomery's son. Giving in, frowning, she said "promise me you won't say anything to the others?"

Straightening to his fullest, Freddie asked, “what others? I see only you and me in this corridor. Let me help you. You were off to get something. I can run errands. Water? Cloth? Medicines? What can I do for you?” He almost vibrated in his eagerness to help, reminiscent of a faithful canine.

"Nevermind the others," Uni said, pushing that worry aside. Feeling relieved that Freddie would still help, she replied, "I need a needle and thread. Maybe your sister has one? She was my first guess. Can you find it for me, please?"

Without word, Freddie whirled round and bolted down the hall and out of view. He quickly found his sister, Theresa, and grabbed her hated sewing basket that she had pushed under a corner chair in her sitting room. “Thanks, Terri. And don’t ask. You’re a love.” And he ran back from the ladies’ wing to the gentleman’s wing and stopped in front of Uni, only three minutes having passed since he bolted. Panting, he held out the basket, as if it were the proof that he could be trusted. “With . . . my . . . com . . . pli . . . ments . . .”

"Thank you, Freddie. I owe you one." Uni smiled at him as she accepted the basket. As she reached for the doorknob behind her, she asked, "I assume you want to come in and see what the fuss is about?"

Suddenly grinning, Freddie backed up, hands raised defensively, shaking his head. “Oh no, with my luck, it’s a woman delivering an early babe. No man should see a woman stronger than he.” He bowed. “You’ll tell me later, Unity. For now, help your friend.” With that Freddie eased past her to the next door along the hall and entered his own suite of rooms.

Uni knew she'd have to thank Freddie again later and give a proper explanation. Turning around, she took a deep breath then carefully opened and closed the door, not wanting to startle any of the boys in the room. "I've got the supplies you need." She walked over and set the basket beside Presto.

Looking up, gold eyes lighting in delight, Presto nodded. “Good. Let me prepare it.” He pulled out a small traveler’s tinderbox and lit the fuse so he could run the needle through the flames. “Master says this kills the evil spirits so he won’t get sicker.”

Eric quietly watched, seeming actually resigned to the coming procedure, as if he’d gone through it before. With the look of his back, he probably had. Michael stepped forward and sat on his brother’s bed, taking one hand to help keep him calm.

Uni noticed Michael take his brother's hand and wished she could have been the one comforting him instead. She knew that stitches hurt just as much as cleansing a wound, recalling a deep cut she’d had on her leg only a year ago. Remembering how she talked to Eric back at the river to keep his mind off the pain, she asked, "what's your favorite creature, Eric?" She knew it was a random question, but it seemed far better than asking about his love interest. Though she was curious, she didn't want to embarrass him or herself. She only wanted him to smile or laugh and make him forget about the pain just for a moment.

Thankfully taking his brother’s strong hand, knowing the pain that would come with the stitching, Eric moved his eyes to center on Uni’s face. “Creature? Like an animal or a dragon or something?” Eric wasn’t the most educated man around, his thought processes slower than his father appreciated. But in the end, he figured out the important things, so he figured the healer would tell him if he was wrong. “Um . . .I haven’t ever seen one but I like unicorns.” He flushed a bit at the fantastical answer and explained, “I like horses and unicorns are horses but better.”

Smiling softly at the young man’s answer, Presto piped up. “I like unicorns, too. They can heal and disappear and reappear elsewhere and read minds . . .”

“And they always know if someone’s evil,” Michael added, smiling at Uni, encouraging her wordlessly to join in their discussion.

Uni was relieved at their responses and smiled. "Unicorns are beautiful creatures. I've never seen one either but I dreamed about them once." She laughed softly.

“I dreamed that I was a unicorn once,” Eric nearly whispered, clenching his teeth as Presto pierced his skin with the needle and began stitching the largest wound neatly.

Uni walked over and seated herself back on the slip covered chair. "What was it like?" She smiled encouragingly at him.

Eric kept his eyes locked with Uni’s as he tried to describe his dream. Thing was, Eric didn’t feel like he was a very creative person at the best of times. He was pretty sure his dream would sound less than impressive. “Well, I was about sixteen hands high and I was a bay but with gold sparkles across my coat. And my mane and tail were black with gold in them. And my horn was pure ebony with gold wrapped around. Ah!”

Presto winced at Eric’s gasp but Michael quickly pushed part of the sheet at Eric, who pushed it into his mouth to keep from screaming louder.

Uni cringed at Eric's gasp. She truly hated hearing him cry out. Hearing other patients crying out in pain never bothered her this much, as Eric's did. "That sounds like a very nice dream. And those colors suit you." She flushed at the comment she gave and quickly regained herself. Knowing the conversation was dropped, she quickly asked, "is there anything else I can do to help?"

Eric didn’t answer, too busy trying not to choke on the sheet. Michael looked up and gestured towards a clean cloth. “Maybe help wash away the blood so Presto can see?” he suggested, most of his attention for his brother and for the doorway. He knew the longer this took the bigger chance their father would come knocking, and Michael didn’t want his father discovering what they were up to. The man was under the impression that medicine was akin to witchcraft and people should heal without aid.

"Certainly," Uni said quickly getting up from her seat. She filled up another bowl with water and carried the half full bowl and a few dry clothes over. Then she began to wash away some of the blood while staying out of Presto's way.

A quick thankful smile crossed Presto’s face as he used the back of one wrist to push his lenses back up the bridge of his nose. This left a streak of blood across one cheek, but he seemed unaware as he bent to continue his careful stitches in the waning light of the afternoon sun through the windows.

Seeing the blood on her friend's face, Uni set aside the bloodied cloth and soaked another, wiping the blood off Presto's cheek. Even if it didn't bother him, she knew that if the same thing happened to her she would want someone to do the same.

“Thanks Uni, that was going to start itching if it dried,” Presto said as he continued his careful work. He glanced up at Eric’s pale, set face, his gold eyes showing how impressed he was with the young trainee knight. “Wow, I’d have passed out before now.”

Eric snorted but didn’t say anything around the sheet.

Rather, Michael answered, “he’s had worse than this.”

Presto nodded. “Yeah, I can tell from the scars. He’s had a lot of very serious injuries in the last few years.”

Uni frowned, her body tensing. "Could you tell us what caused them?"

Michael’s voice sounded bland as he responded “wooden switches, fireplace poker, and horse whip.” He looked towards the window, dark eyes hard.

"Why?" The word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Uni stopped washing away the blood for a moment.

The young knight turned back to Uni, fighting back the pain he felt at the abuse his brother tolerated daily. “Apparently it will make him a better knight and a better man.” Eric groaned into the sheet, squeezing Michael’s hand at the intense pain while Presto muttered an apology and continued.

Uni returned Michael's gaze and said, voice quiet, "and the person who does this to you . . . he is close to you. Your . . ." She stopped herself, unable to say the word. She looked down at the soaked cloth then continued to dab at the blood while still keeping out of Presto's way.

A deep sigh of frustration ripped from Michael. “A guardian or parent has absolute authority over his household and may give discipline where he sees fit.” The young knight shook his head. “Once a man makes his own way, he can make his own rules. When Eric finishes the trials . . .”

Eric spit out the sheet and answered bitterly, “fat chance, that, when I can barely get out of bed. Father saw to that, didn’t he, Michael? He’ll keep me at home forever.”

Michael shook his head, misery in his dark eyes.

"Forgive me," Uni said quickly. "It wasn't my place to ask." She frowned deeply, regretting what she asked and implied, though she was thankful for finally getting some answers.

“So,” Presto asked through clenched teeth as he pulled the needle carefully, painfully through a knot of scar tissue which had been reopened, “you need to heal quickly to compete in the tourney so you can be knighted?”

“Or so someone else might ask the King’s favor to train him,” Michael confirmed. “I have made discreet inquiries and I think Sir Tobias is willing to apprentice him, but with these injuries, he’ll never be able to compete.”

Eric groaned and turned his face to bury it in the bed.

"I'm sure you'll be nearly healed in time for you to compete." Uni tried to sound reassuring, being unsure herself if he would be well enough to compete or be beaten again.

Presto nodded and cleared his throat. “I need someone to go to my rooms and get some things for me. But I need Unity here. Sir Michael? Are you able to get someone to go to my rooms and retrieve the yellow cedar box? It’s remarkably delicate even if it looks sturdy.”

Michael nodded and headed out of the door in search of what he needed.

Uni wiped away some of the remaining blood from Eric's back. "How many more are needing to be stitched up?"

The gold-eyed young man looked over at her, worry in his eyes, though he merely cleared his throat and looked back at what he did. “I’m at the last one now. I’d say that he’s been beaten every couple of days for the amount of damage here. And at least a week without real treatment.”

Eric snorted. “Father doesn’t allow the servants to tend me when I’m being . . . punished.”

"Perhaps he should every once in awhile at least," Uni shot back. Sighing lightly, quietly she said, "I'm sorry."

“More importantly,” Presto interrupted, “is the question as to why he feels you need punishment every couple of days.”

The doorknob turned and the door opened. “What is this?” The low, angry sound of Lord Montgomery came to the trio. The man strode in quickly and shut the door . . . unfortunately, it seemed Michael had forgotten to lock it when he left.

Uni's head shot up quickly at the sound of the older man's voice. She immediately recognized him as Eric's father. "We're just, uh . . ." words failed her as she glanced at Eric's back then back to Lord Montgomery. Fearing that he might recognize her at any moment, she looked away and quickly said, "we're trying to finish stitching up your son's wounds."

Lord Montgomery glanced at his son, stretched out on the bed and covered in blood from the waist up. The man turned and studied the cinnamon-haired alchemist’s apprentice. Finally he turned back to Uni . . . and failed to recognize her from their earlier encounter. “Very well. Has my son, Sir Michael, been here?” His tone sounded strict but accepting and calm.

"Yes, my lord." Uni turned her attention back toward him. "He went to fetch us some items a few moments ago."

With a frown, he nodded and moved back to the door. “Well, since it is obvious this boy will not make it to the supper banquet tonight, please see that Sir Michael knows he is to appear there. I will see him in my suite when he is finished running errands for the local healers.” The man walked out without another look.

“Well, that went well,” Presto said, his voice cracking slightly. “I mean, he decided we were healers and allowed to help his son.”

“And he treated you like servants, giving you a message for Michael.” What Eric didn’t mention was that his father had completely ignored him.

A slight smile appeared on the redhead's face. "And he didn't recognize me from earlier today which saves us from even more trouble." Uni secretly hoped that he wouldn't remember her at all.

A few minutes passed in which Presto finished knotting the last stitch and Eric held tightly onto the bedclothes. Finally, the alchemist stood and used a wrist to push his glasses back up his nose. Blood covered his hands, but a triumphant smile glowed on his freckled face.

The door opened and Michael came in, carefully carrying the cedar chest. “Here it is,” he called softly.

"Good." Uni wiped her hands on her skirt as she moved to the door, closing it behind Michael. "You missed your father. He came by with a message, but you should probably hear it from Eric instead."

Presto nodded, washing his hands in some of the water then drying them on one of the pieces of cloth. “We’ll need fresh water for him to drink.” The alchemist apprentice turned to carefully lift the lid on his chest, revealing several vials of different colored liquids, jars of tincture, and other various containers of unknown mixtures. He made himself busy finding the one he needed.

Eric’s voice came faintly. “Father wants you in his suite. You are to appear at the banquet since he thinks I cannot.”

“Uh oh,” Michael sighed. “He might have me continue pretending to be you, since this entire party is being held to celebrate your betrothal.” The knight turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “I better see what he wants. I’ll lock the door if that’s alright with you. Father might avoid entering a locked room.”

Presto nodded and looked to Uni for her approval.

"Yes, that will be fine. It'd be nice to have no interruptions. Eric needs to rest." Uni gave Michael an assuring smile. "Take all the time you need, Michael. If anything changes, Albert or I will come find you." 

Michael nodded and turned towards the door. "Thank you both for taking care of my brother." He smiled back at them, the expression strained then turned and let himself from the room, softly locking it behind.


	5. Changing Fates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduced Characters & Ages: Mel, 16 (and her mother), Dekion, 26
> 
> Chapter Summary: [ ]
> 
> .

With a heavy sigh, Melanie cursed her mother for the eleventh time in three days for joining her on her journey. It hadn't been an ideal first trip since her father's death for them to go on together. It was stressful and draining, and her mother's worries and protests on every small thing didn't help at all: especially when it came down to worrying about how they would react if her own disguise as a boy didn't persuade the bandits and thieves that lurked on the roads to leave the pair alone. 

The afternoon had been warm with a light wind, which briefly cooled the sweat and plastered loose strands of dark brown hair onto her face every so often. Her mother seemed in a worse state. Sweaty and achy, her bones and muscles felt sore from the ride; her dark blue gown had dirt stains, and her hair slowly fell from the bun high on her head. Mel had refused to stop and allow her a change of gown; if they stopped then, they might as well have stopped for the day. Mel knew things would be better for the both of them as soon as they reached their destination. 

"How much longer?" Lady Margery asked her only daughter. 

"It shouldn't be too much longer. An hour or two more," Mel guessed, biting her lip. She wasn't sure when they'd arrive, but she hoped it would be soon for her mother's sake. 

"You said that not too long ago. Are your sure we are going the right way?" The older woman had been to the king's Hunting Lodge many times, but it had been years ago when she was younger. The terrain had changed, and she only remembered a little as they passed small quiet towns and inns. 

"Yes," Melanie assured her mother. "Father and I traveled this way a few times, and I still remember his directions. Plus, we have a map in case we need to use it." 

"Perhaps we should . . ." her mother suggested, knowing it would ease her worries. 

"We're going the right way. I promise." Mel sighed quietly to herself. Her mother's fretting started to make her worry and second guess herself, but she pushed it aside. 

"You know . . . It isn't too late to turn back around to the inn and present yourself as a girl," her mother said, breaking the silence that settled over them as they continued to ride on and starting back up their conversation from the night before. 

"I haven't changed my mind, Mother. This is what I want to do. I wish you would accept it. If I were a boy, you would be thinking differently." 

"It would be different." Her mother sighed, trying to get through to her daughter. "You'd take part in the tourney and give a young lady a token, or you'd already be a knight and be betrothed, marrying in the next year while taking care of the home your father would leave in your name." The older woman tucked a brown curl behind her ear. "The tourney is where your father and I met," she said, giving her daughter a small smile though her heart was still heavy from her recent lost. 

"I know." Her mother brought up their story time and time again, trying to persuade and change her mind on her dreams of knighthood. "I am still keeping my promise to you if it doesn't happen," she said, assuring her mother. ‘No matter how much I won't like it,’ she added mentally. 

"I would hope so," her mother said. "I brought five of your best gowns just in case, and I'd have the dressmaker create more for you if need be." 

"Mother, I wish you hadn't," Mel sighed, trying not to let her mother's words bother her. The two women had compromised before they started their long journey. If Mel couldn't be knighted this summer, then she was to give up her and her deceased father's shared dreams, become a proper lady, marry a suitable man, and raise children. But if she became a knight then she'd be free to do as she pleased. Mel hoped for the latter. 

"I wanted to be prepared had you had a change of heart." Her mother knew that if her daughter's disguise was revealed then no eligible man would want to have her for a wife, but she had some hope one would. She wished her husband was still alive to calm her down, though they argued many times over their only child. 

An hour passed by as Mel and her mother continued to ride. The forest surrounding them provided cool shade from the burning sun. "It shouldn't be too much longer now," Mel said, noticing the trees becoming fewer and the large palace coming into view in the distance. She heard her mother's sigh of relief. "There's a river close by here. The horses need water, and I know you wanted to freshen up before we arrived at the palace," Melanie told her mother. "You can there." 

Lady Guthrie tried to hide her disappointment from her daughter as she nodded. She followed her daughter closely as they lead their horses to the left into the forest. 

They reached the river bank in no time, letting their horses drink as they needed. Lady Margery kneeled down carefully on the green grass and rolled up the sleeves of her gown before putting her hands in the water and washing her arms, face and neck. She took down her bun then twisted her brown hair back on top of her head. The older woman felt a little refreshed, though barely presentable, but it would have to do until she arrived at the palace.

Mel had done the same as her mother but in a hurriedly fashion. She checked on their horses, making sure the two mares were well and making sure their few belongings they carried were still secured.

Once her mother finished freshening up, both women got back on their mares and made their way back up the king's road. The large palace grew in size as they got closer and closer. 

Green eyes grew wide with wonder at the grand sight ahead of her. Mel tried not to let her excitement get the best of her, but she couldn't believe she actually made it here. Not too far ahead, she saw a blonde haired youth and a young redheaded woman sharing a conversation along the stairs and wondered if either of them would know where she'd need to when she greeted them both.

xxx

Striding down the steps and out the door, Sir Michael Montgomery paid more attention to his roiling thoughts than to his glamorous surroundings. His brown eyes snapped in annoyance with the situation his father had thrust him into. Underlying the utter annoyance was avid anger and hatred for what his father had done to his little brother, Eric. Michael had no idea how he could sponsor his brother in the trials if Eric was too injured to even get out of bed; hopefully that alchemist's tinctures and sutures worked well enough to aid the hopeful trainee in time for the tourney.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, Michael barely nodded towards his friends, Hank and Varla. However, he did come to a rapid halt when he heard the nicker of a horse close by. Michael's head shot up and he looked around for the potential danger; the knight had no need of an injury from a massive animal at this time.

Mel gripped the reins tightly then quickly released them. She gave a few soothing words to her chestnut mare while petting her neck gently before getting down, and confronting the tall, dark haired man. Her green eyes scanned his features, noticing he was a knight. She had hoped he'd be of some help despite the look of alarm and annoyance on his face.

"Mel," her mother said lowly.

Melanie gave her mother a look that made her stay quiet despite the boiling anger she had. She gave her horse another pat and looked at the young man standing in front of them and their horses. "Good day, Sir," she greeted.

Sick of his father's toadying and rank pulling, Michael determined immediately not to stand on ceremony with the brown haired, green-eyed lad before him. Rather he pushed his annoyance away and offered a smile, dark brown eyes lighting with innate friendliness. He ran a hand through his short black hair and bowed. "Michael. Mel was it? Well come, Mel." He stepped over to the older woman's mount and offered his hands. "Might I help you, my lady? Well come to the King's court." He offered his smile to the exhausted looking woman.

Hank, standing to the side, smiled and stepped forward to grasp the reins for the older woman and bowing at the shoulders for the lad. "And I am Henry. This is Varla."

"I am pleased to meet you all." Mel smiled and bowed to Henry and Varla. "This is my mother, Lady Margery Guthrie," she said as she watched her mother, looking relieved and smiling, as Michael helped her down.

Once she was on her feet, Michael offered his arm to woman. "Lady Margery, Mel, might I bring you to rooms to rest from your journey? Luncheon is served within the hour, if you care to join us?" He smiled over at the boy, trying to judge if he was one of the hopeful competitors or merely there for the festivities. "Have you journeyed long?" Michael began to guide the lady up the stone steps.

Hank reached for the reigns Mel held. "I can care for your horses, Mel, if you want to go with Sir Michael."

Lady Margery accepted the offered arm. "That would be lovely, Sir Michael. Thank you." She smiled at him, ecstatic for the kindness. "We traveled three days time from the west. A room would be wonderful to freshen up in for the luncheon. My son and I thank you for the offer."

"Thank you, Henry," Mel replied as she released her reins. She gave a kind ankle and bowed before taking a few quick strides to catch up to her mother and Michael.

After a long moment, Michael suddenly realized where he’d heard the name Guthrie before. “My condolences, my lady, on the loss of your husband. He was a good knight and a true friend.” He offered a look to Mel and tilted his head very slightly. “I had not heard Sir Stephan had . . . wait. He had mentioned a promise knight in training he would bring to the tourney. Could he have been speaking of you, Mel?”

Mel stiffened slightly, hoping she had not been found out. "I . . . Yes. My father trained me when I became of age. He promised to take me then he died." She smiled at the memory. "I am lucky to have my mother accompany me."

Michael nodded and led them down a long stone corridor on the second floor. He smiled for the woman on his arm again. "This is where you'll be staying, my lady. The dining hall is on this level down the other wing, so not hard to locate." He opened a door to an unoccupied suite and let the woman's arm go. "Please rest. I look forward to conversing with you further." Almost before the woman knew what was happening, he gave her a gentle push into the room and softly shut the door behind her.

Turning to Mel he smiled wider. "Traveling with a worrying parent can be trying at best. You'll be down this way, Mel, on the third floor." As he began to walk, not offering his arm to what he assumed to be a male, he asked "do you have a sponsor for the tourney in your father's stead?"

Mel smiled, thankful her mother was in a well suited room. "No, I'm afraid I do not." She frowned. She hadn't given it much thought at the time. "I have not met any to consider or offer yet. Do you know who would be willing?"

Michael stopped walking and turned to face Mel, looking down into her green eyes. "Well, Sir Tobias will be sponsoring Hank, that's Henry. Sir Richard will sponsor Robert. I'm supposed to sponsor my brother Eric, but he might not be well enough to compete." He stopped smiling, the anger flaring once again in his dark eyes. Michael ran a hand through his hair again. "Sir Dekion doesn't have a trainee that I know of, but he's mourning the death of his wife and might not participate." He sighed and began walking up towards the third floor. "Did you father's friends not offer?"

"I am sorry about your brother. I did not know. I do hope he will be well enough soon." Mel was unsure of what else to say, seeing the sudden anger rise in Michael from the mention of his brother, but hoped that helped. "Most of my father's friends have sons of their own. Those who do not think I cannot make it even after my father's death," she said, trying to keep her own anger and frustration down.

Michael stopped walking and turned to study the knight trainee next to him. “You don’t look weak or ill. Why wouldn’t they sponsor their friend’s son?” He shook his head, clearly not expecting an answer as he began walking again. Finally, he pushed open a door and gestured inside at the narrow wooden bed and lone chair next to a wash basin. “Not much, I know, but until a trainee proves himself, he either shares with his sponsor or gets a sparse cell.” He shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll find a sponsor in the next few days. Get rested and come to luncheon, you’re practically the last trainee to show up so most of the knights are here, too.” He offered a smile for his newest friend.

Mel entered the room, relieved that the topic of needing a sponsor had dropped. She looked over the room and smiled to herself, knowing she could get by for now. She turned around. "Thank you for all that you've done." She smiled. "I look forward to meeting the other Knights."

Michael gave her a quick smile and nodded. “Did you want me to come back for you to lead you to the dining hall or should I send a servant?” He ran a strong, tanned hand through his dark hair.

Suddenly, another door just down the hall opened and a young, bespectacled red-haired youth came out, hands and apron covered in blood. The youth looked surprised at the sight of Michael talking to someone unknown but nodded to them. “He needs a couple days rest. Let’s hope there’s no infection.” With that, the redhead walked off, carrying a basket of odds and ends. Michael lost his smile, watching after the other young man.

Mel frowned as she watched a young redheaded man walk away and frowned, her concern growing. "Michael? Is everything alright? If you need to tend something important, I'll be just fine on my own until a servant arrives. I don't want to cause you any trouble." She gave him an understanding look.

He turned to the young woman and shook his head. “My brother’s not well,” he explained, but didn’t say what was wrong. “But since he needs rest and a local nurse is with him, I think I should just let him sleep. I’ll gladly show you where the dining hall is.” He gave her a soft smile, but there his dark eyes held worry. “I’ll be back shortly, Mel. There’s water to wash with.” He waved once then hurried away, not in the direction of his brother’s room but back down the hall they’d traversed.

Mel waved though he didn't see. After she could no longer see Michael, Mel closed her door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. She then let down her hair and removed some of her armor before making her way to the water and wash basin, pondering what she was going to do next.

xxx

A low, deep gong sounded followed by three short booms on the same gong. As the last echo faded a sharp knock came to Mel’s door. Michael called through the thick wood, “Mel? Hungry?”

"Yes, actually," Mel called while she quickly got up from her bed. "Just a moment, please." She fixed up her brown hair and composed herself before opening up the door.

Standing on the other side of the door, Michael had changed his clothes. Now dressed in dark blue trousers and tunic worked with silver embroidery, he looked ready to dine with nobility. Offering a smile to Mel, he nodded once. “The King isn’t here yet, but you’ll be able to meet many of the knights. However, I’m not sure if any of those you know are here yet. I understand from Father that a large group from the south has yet to arrive.” He began to lead her down the hall. “Your mother is taking a tray in her room, as are most of the women, so we’ll be a mainly masculine company.”

Mel cringed mentally at the mention of the other knights she would know. "I am sure some I know are well on their way," she said, though she wasn't looking forward to seeing them again, knowing once they noticed her they would likely laugh. She was just happy to meet some new faces. Smiling as she followed Michael down, she said "thank you for informing me about my mother. I was worried about her. I know she hasn't handled the journey well."

Michael nodded and led the young woman down the steps to the second floor dining hall. “Most of the women seemed to have had a bad journey. But with rest and good food, they will recover.” He nodded to a plainly dressed servant who opened the hall doors and stepped back, allowing the two to enter and find seats along the large tables. Michael sank down in a chair at the head table next to an older man with blond curls and green eyes. The older man barely looked at Mel, but he did nod a minimal greeting to what appeared to be a young male. Michael looked at Mel and said “this is Lord Montgomery. Father, this is Mel, a knight trainee.”

Lord Montgomery lifted his eyes to study the lean figure of the trainee. “And your sponsor, lad? Shouldn’t you be sitting with him?” He sounded disapproving and bored.

Mel nodded a greeting but didn't smile. She stiffened slightly, bracing herself for the disapproving looks and words. "I haven't been able to find a sponsor since my father's death," she explained, knowing Lord Montgomery looked disinterested.

Lord Montgomery turned to look over the teenager once more. “You have the look of Guthrie . . . I had no idea he had a son. A daughter, yes, but she’s a little thing, I believe. If none of your father’s men would sponsor you, lad, perhaps they feel you need more training.”

Anger flared in Michael’s deep brown eyes and he tightened a hand around his metal goblet. Obviously his emotions were close to the surface, especially with Eric’s recent unwelcome diagnosis. He turned his head slowly to look at his father, who looked nothing like the Montgomery brothers. “Father, you give insult to a guest of the King.”

Rolling his eyes, the Lord sneered at his older son. “If the boy can’t handle an honest question, he has no business going into battle. I’ll never sponsor a knight who can’t defend himself let alone my other men. If you thought to cozen me into sponsoring this whelp, Sir Michael, you were very mistaken.” He turned his son’s title into an insult.

Mel felt her face flush in anger. "I can defend myself well enough, Lord Montgomery. My father saw to that." She balled one of her hands into a fist in her lap. "My father promised me that I would compete, and I'm going to fulfill that promise. I would gladly go against one of your best knights just to prove myself to you, Lord Montgomery, or anyone else here who has your views."

The Lord rolled his eyes again, apparently unafraid of the anger or dire promise. “As if a real knight would have anything to do with a bragging whelp such as you. Your aspirations won’t be met this season, boy, I can see to that for your rudeness. He turned away from the pair beside him.

Michael calmly said, “I suppose, My Lord, that you must think any knight willing to sponsor the lad quite useless, which would mean his former sponsor was useless. Odd, since I had thought to sponsor Mel in the tourney.”

Montgomery stiffened and whirled around, glaring at his son, but the knight had planned his words well. Sir Richard O’Neil stopped and slapped a large, strong hand down on Michael’s shoulder. “Did I hear that right, Sir Michael? And everyone thought you’d be sponsoring your brother this season. Hello, lad, have the look of Guthrie about you. Good knight, good friend, even if we couldn’t meet as often as I’d liked.”

With Sir Richard’s witnessing of Michael’s claim, there was no honorable way Lord Montgomery could make Michael withdrawal his unexpected sponsorship. The Lord merely narrowed his eyes and glared at his son. Through clenched teeth, he growled, “Yes, I, too, thought you would sponsor Eric. So, Sir Michael,” again the slight on the title, “Who will be sponsoring your brother? Or is he to stay at home another season under my training?”

Michael went pale at those words, denoting his sudden realization of just what his brash claim meant for his severely injured brother. Before he could respond to his father’s threat, a deep, resonant voice came from Lord Montgomery’s other side.

“Your youngest needs a sponsor? I haven’t a trainee this season, My Lord. I could sponsor young Eric.”

The two knights and the lord turned to this newest person: a black haired, blue eyed man of striking athletic build and sad countenance. He actually looked more like Michael than Michael’s father did, but it was his generous offer that seemed to hold the attention. Finally, Lord Montgomery said “Sir Dekon. I had not thought you to come this season.”

Dekion shook his head, slipping into the seat on the other side of Mel. “And miss the tourney? And I hear a betrothal is in the air? How could I offer such insult to my fellow knights?”

Michael, under cover of the three older men talking around them, turned to Mel. “Mel?” he whispered, “Do you mind not waiting for one of your father’s friends to offer? I could withdraw the offer if you wish it.”

Mel was unsure of what to make of the exchange between Michael and his father. She didn't like where that had been going if the other welcoming knights hadn't showed up. She turned to Michael, thankful for a distraction. "No," she whispered back, "I accept your offer." She didn't know what exactly made her accept the first offer, only that it felt right, putting Lord Montgomery's rudeness aside.

Michael gave her a sunny smile, making his chocolate eyes sparkle. Loudly he said, “Sir Dekion, Sir Richard, this is my new trainee, Mel. And yes, Sir Guthrie, rest his soul, trained Mel until now. I hope to do Sir Guthrie’s memory proud taking over for him.”

“Well said, Sir Michael,” Sir Richard lifted his own goblet, toasting the young knight. “And here comes my own trainee, my son, Robert.” He gestured to the stocky blond boy entering the hall. “Robert, my boy, come and meet one of the other hopefuls. This is Mel, and Sir Michael, Lord Montgomery’s eldest son.”

The blond walked over and gave a wide grin to Mel. “Hey,” he thrust out a strong calloused hand, tanned and worn from years of training. “Nice to meet you.”

Mel gave a kind smile to the young trainee, who looked so much like his father. "Hello," she said, shaking his hand. "It is nice to meet you, too."

Robert sat down next to Dekion and leaned forward to grin again at Mel. “Well, I look forward to sparring with you, Mel. Who’s your knight?”

Sir Richard laughed. “Mel’s knight is Sir Michael, son. And before you ask, Sir Dekion is sponsoring Eric, Michael’s brother, so everything’s settled.” The large blond looked happy when he saw his wife enter the room. He waved. “Wife, over here. They’re starting to serve the roast.”

With that, the luncheon started with hinds and joints of meat and large platters of raw vegetables and big rounds of fresh bread. Some of the people in the vast room had little to no table manners, but fortunately the group at the Montgomery table ate neatly with their knives, using the finger bowls of cleansing water to clean grease and such from their hands every so often.

Talking raced loudly over much of the room, and Sir Richard seemed as loud and boisterous as the rest of the lot. Lord Montgomery remained quiet and withdrawn in apparent displeasure. Sir Dekion seemed lost in his thoughts, his expression haunted. Michael and Robert, however, seemed interested in trading news of their own shires, despite the age difference of nearly five years or so between them. Michael didn’t seem to mind socializing with the younger trainee.

As the meal reached a crescendo of noise, the hall fell suddenly silent as a dark haired, dark eyed man, dressed in soft grey tunic and trousers with a single sapphire at his collar, strolled into the room. People stood and bowed towards the man and Michael stood as well, whispering “the King, Mel . . . that’s the King.” The similarity between Sir Michael and his mother’s cousin, the King, seemed almost uncanny, bringing something to mind one of Lady Guthrie’s ladies had said last season. _‘They say Lord Montgomery secretly hates the king for seducing the lady and giving her two bastards.’_

Mel quickly stood and bowed just as the rest of the people in the room had done. She could easily make out the similarities of the King and Michael, but she had didn't believe the many rumors her mother shared with her after an afternoon with the ladies. Mel ignored them, of course, not wanting to believe such things were true. She didn't understand how traits were passed down to others, but thought only that had something to do with the difference. Rumors were a nasty thing, especially about husband and wife, and lies were just as bad, though she kept one herself. _‘I don't like to believe everything I hear concerning those kinds of matters. I would say they were wrong.’_

Michael smiled at Mel, unaware of her thoughts concerning his parentage and the vicious gossip which had fueled his father’s rage behind closed doors. At the look on her face, his smile slipped, and reminding him once again of the awful hatred Lord Montgomery had directed towards his first wife when he’d seen both his sons were dark like her royal cousin. Mother had always sworn fidelity to her husband . . . and his disbelief had been fueled by the gossip and knowing looks surrounding them at court. It was the main reason they lived on the old Montgomery estates rather than at court where the brothers actually belonged. And their living in hiding also enabled Lord Montgomery to get away with his cruel treatment of his younger son.

Michael sat when the King gestured for his subjects to sit, but he took no delight in his cousin’s presence suddenly . . . sure his new trainee had heard the ugly rumors, but unsure how the boy would react to the vicious lies. Fortunately, the King had only come in to have a word with a few of his closest cronies, signaling the rest of the luncheon party to leave them alone.

Lord Montgomery strode from the room, anger in the strike of his boot heels on the stone flagging. Michael jumped up, sudden fear in his eyes, and hurried after his father, knowing that Eric lay asleep and vulnerable upstairs in the men’s wing.

Mel got up from her chair and walked out of the dining hall at the King's dismissal. She decided to go after Michael, wondering why he left so quickly after his father and why he worried about his brother; she just hoped it wasn't anything awful. Sighing heavily, she quickly walked down the hall Michael had led her through and saw him start to make his way up the stairs. In a matter of seconds, Mel was by Michael's side, keeping up with his pace. "Everything okay?"

Michael continued his hurry up the stairs, answering in a soft growl “Father will beat him to death if I don’t stop him!” Once in the men’s wing, Michael bolted down the hall, straight past his father and into the room Eric lay sleeping.

"Oh," was all Mel could say, before Michael bolted down the hall. Seeing the opportunity, she immediately followed him, running right on his heels while passing Lord Montgomery without a second thought and entered the chamber.

As Michael closed and bolted the door, he leaned his head against the solid wood. On the bed, Eric, lying on his front, his torso bandaged and the wrappings slightly bloody from drainage, opened his dark brown eyes. He looked like a near copy of his older brother, except that he looked tired and sick. He blinked and looked towards the door. “Michael?”

Michael turned, “I’m sorry, Eric. Father’s angry again. Sir Dekion’s offered to sponsor you, because I took a different trainee.” He took a deep breath and gestured towards Mel. “This is Mel, my trainee.”

Eric looked at the thin girl dressed in boy’s clothes and nodded. “Hello? Unity?” He turned his head slightly to make sure the red-haired healer was safely in there and not where his father could get to her.

Michael gestured towards Uni. “That’s Unity, a healer locally and helped save my brother.”

Uni stood from her chair. "I'm still here," she reassured Eric. She turned to the dark haired, green eyed girl and smiled. "Hey. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too." Mel smiled back. She looked at Eric then at Michael, seeing they both looked so similar in appearance that they could almost be called twins. As she looked back at Eric, she tried to keep herself from frowning when she took in the site of the bandages and wrappings. She started to understand Michael's concern further as she pieced things together, though she still found it a little hard to believe. 

Michael gestured towards the chair once more. “Sit, Unity, please.” He had dropped his flowery speech from earlier and was talking to the girl as if she were an old friend. “Mel, there’s a stool over there you can use. I need to find a way to get you both some food . . .” Michael frowned and looked towards the door, but there seemed to be no threat from Lord Montgomery at that moment: no voice and no banging at all. It appeared that their father hadn’t stopped at Eric’s room, despite Michael’s fear.

Mel walked over to the offered stool and took the seat. "Thanks." She brushed a strand of hair from her face.

Uni seated herself back in the chair and crossed her arms, seeing Michael focused on the door. "I'm mostly concerned about Eric needing food, Michael. I can wait for this evening for some if it would be easier."

"Is there someone staying in the room next to his who could help or fetch a servant nearby?" Mel offered.

Michael turned and nodded. “Actually, there is.” He walked over to the window and looked out. Spotting someone, he waved and then backed into the room. “Freddie . . . I noticed he skipped luncheon which means he was outside. If there’s one person who prefers the outdoors to food, it’s Freddie.” He smiled slightly.

Eric smiled a little, “You have friends everywhere, Michael.”

The knight shrugged one shoulder and smiled fondly at his little brother. “Only because people prefer my methods to the current Lord Montgomery.”

Only a minute passed when a light, yet sure knock came on the door. Michael answered it and looked surprised as he backed into the room. The knight, Sir Dekion, entered bearing a tray filled with enough food to feed five people.

“Sir Dekion?” Michael looked from the overladen tray to the somber expression of the twenty-something year old widower.

He cleared his throat and bowed slightly in greeting. “I noticed your brother wasn’t at the meal and thought he might want something to eat if he felt well enough. As I am now sponsoring him, I see it as my duty to see to his welfare.”

The door behind the tall, dark knight pushed open and Freddie eagerly rushed in. “Yes, Michael?”

Michael blinked then tugged his friend into the room and shut and bolted the door once more. Quickly he said, “Dekion, do you know Miss Unity St. Clair?”

Dekion placed the tray on the small table and bowed low to the pretty teen. “My lady.” He then bowed slightly to Mel, as befit a greeting to a lower ranking noble. “Mel, was it not?”

Mel sighed in relief at the tray full of food and friendly faces, though she didn't know them well enough. She stood and bowed to the older knight. "Sir Dekion," she said in greeting. "And yes." She smiled. "It's a pleasure seeing you again."

"Sir Dekion," Uni said, giving him a kind smile before seating herself again.

Dekion turned and frowned at the sight of the very injured sixteen year old. “Tell me what happened, Sir Michael. As the boy is now in my charge, I must know all or I cannot protect him.”

Michael sighed. He hadn’t intended to air the family’s dirty linen, but Sir Dekion had every right to know. As Eric’s sponsor, he just legally became Eric’s new guardian, unless he withdrew his support or the king did so. Finally, Michael nodded once and said, his voice cold, “Father beats him with whatever is to hand.”

The older knight didn’t show any emotional reaction. He merely continued to study his new apprentice. “Why?”

“For whatever whim takes him.” Michael said bitterly. At Dekion’s sharp look, Michael held up both hands and added, “I do not exaggerate, Dekion. Father hates Eric and I. He believes that Mother played him false. And he cannot take it out on her, so he takes it out on Eric . . . since I became a knight he cannot touch me.”

Dekion made a low rumble in his throat and put his hand to his chin, still watching Eric. Finally, he said, “eat and recover. I will assure the king that I will keep Eric as my apprentice even if he cannot compete this season.” He looked seriously into Michael’s eyes. “I will keep Eric on until he is twenty-five or becomes a knight. His father can no longer beat him unless it is on the field of battle.

With that, the tall, lean knight left the room, Freddie sliding the bolt in place afterwards.

Michael sank onto the bed, looking shocked. “Just like that?”

Eric, too, looked unbelieving.

"I can't believe it," Uni said, her voice full of disbelief. She collected herself and couldn't help but smile at what had just been said. "I mean . . . can it be done just like that? What will your father do when he notices?" Her face fell at that.

Mel stiffened slightly at the mention of Lord Montgomery. She only sat there quietly, taking in what Michael had told Dekion. She was shocked and relieved all at the same time, but was still uncertain that everything was settled, thinking back on the conversation she heard during the luncheon.

Freddie smiled and bounced slightly on his heels before reaching for a thick slice of still warm bread. “If a knight claims an apprentice, he becomes legal guardian. Since Sir Dekion has changed his mind and is claiming apprenticeship rather than simple trainee, Eric’s now his to do with what he wants. If he tells the king why he took Eric, Lord Montgomery won’t be allowed near Eric ever.” He bit into the bread, chewed and swallowed, then added “the King won’t like Lord Montgomery treating his cousin’s sons so badly. Lady Montgomery was the king’s favorite cousin.”

Michael shook himself and nodded slowly. “Which is one of the reasons it’s so easy for the gossips to believe those foul rumors about my mother and her cousin.”

Eric sighed and tried to turn so he could reach for the food.

"I'm glad that it worked out then," Mel said, readjusting herself on the stool.

Uni noticed the trouble Eric had and said, "here, let me." She quickly got up and moved to the table, fixing him a small plate of food. "Just go slowly and if you feel like eating more once you’re finished, I'll give you some more," she said, offering the plate to him with a smile.

Eric accepted the help and ate before drifting off to sleep again, still on his front. Michael stood by the window, looking out, and frowning. Freddie seemed to be worried, as his big brown eyes studied each person in turn before starting the rounds again, over and over.

Eventually, there came a knock on the door. Freddie bound over to open it and let the person in.

The king entered the room, waving to his knights and their trainees, and Uni, not to stand on ceremony. Sir Dekion followed him in. The king walked over to Eric’s bedside and gestured for Uni to unwrap the bandages so he could see.

Uni came over to the other side of the bed and took a deep breath. Slowly, she began to unwrap the bandages with careful fingers, not wanting to awake Eric. Blood slightly began to seep through the remaining few bandages as she removed them. After the last one, the many stitches and newer bruises and blood were revealed to everyone in the room.

Dekion pressed his lips together, biting back whatever words he wanted to say, but the king did not show the same restraint. He swore angrily and made no apology despite Uni’s presence. Stepping up to the sleeping teen, the king studied the pattern of welts and bruises over the old scars. He nodded. “Sir Dekion, your petition is granted. You may apprentice this young man, even at his advanced age.” He turned to look over the others in the room. “Sir Michael, you are also granted sponsorship of the Guthrie trainee.” The king made no indication if he realized Mel was a female. “Freddie, no mention of what happened here. I will deal with this; I want no one to let Lord Montgomery or anyone else to know of the investigation. I see evidence of abuse, but not evidence of who perpetrated it.” He crossed his arms and stood straight. “I suppose this means the betrothal will be postponed, as well. The lad certainly cannot court anyone in this condition, and the lass is ill as well.” He shook his head then looked back at Eric.

“Unity, child, who stitched the boy? I need to discuss this with the healer who tended him. Was it your mother?”

"No, Your Grace." Uni looked up at him. "It was Albert, the Alchemist's apprentice."

The king nodded. “Thank you. I’ll send something for your supper. Do not leave this room if you can help it.” He turned. “All of you, stay here. Sir Dekion, Freddie, come with me.” The King led the man and youth from the room, leaving Uni, Eric, Mel, and Michael behind.

Michael looked at the other three and sigh, running a hand once more through his disordered black hair. He shook his head, eyes worried. “I don’t know what he’ll do with Father.”

Eric forced himself into a sitting position, hissing as his injuries rubbed against the bandaging. Tears filled his eyes but he ignored them. “This is going to interfere with the engagement . . .” he sounded unsure what to think or feel.

"Maybe it is for the better." Uni took her seat at the chair. She looked at Eric. "The king mentioned that the girl wasn't well. If you hadn't of been injured, the engagement would have to wait anyway."

"Would the engagement be called off because of your father?" Mel asked. She already felt sorry for him and the girl who would have to deal with his father.

Michael nodded. “If it becomes known what has happened, no one will ally with the house of Montgomery. If he wishes it, the king can even revoke father’s lands, title, and wealth.” He sighed and added “we don’t really know the Lady Sheila, but she arrived and was quite ill.”

Eric sighed. “I haven’t met her at all. Father arranged the betrothal.”

Mel tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I heard that the Lady Sheila is kind." She didn't admit that she met her once before when they were children. Mel looked at Michael. "Couldn't the king give you the lands and title instead? What would happen to you both then?"

Looking at his new trainee, Michael shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure what he'll decide to do with the lands and title. He'll give them to someone he feels earned it more. I'll be fine. I'm a knight of the realm. Eric's now an apprentice as long as Sir Dekion wants him, so he should be fine until he's well enough to pass the tests and become a knight." Despite the nonchalant words, Michael still studied his brother with grave worry.

Several long minutes passed before Eric finally tried to lie back down, Michael helping the weakened teenager. As the older brother settled the younger, the door opened softly, admitting the unexpected figure of young Robert. He seemed surprised at the foursome in the room.

"Hello? Um, I'm Robert O'Neil. My father, Sir Richard, wanted me to come get . . . uh . . . well, my sister's betrothed to . . . uh . . ."

Michael nodded. "The king has ordered the four of us to stay in this room, Robert. Let your father know we hope his daughter is feeling better and look forward to meeting with the family as soon as the king allows."

Bobby nodded, still staring in shock at the weakened Eric with the bloody bandages. "Okay," Bobby replied and hurried from the room, closing the door softly before running off down the corridor.

"Should we lock the door? I'm not sure if Robert would tell his father what he saw, but we should probably keep who we can out. It would prevent more talk until someone sends for us," Uni said.

Eric groaned softly. “And have people think you were gang raped by the rest of us?” The words and idea were crude, but no less true for the horrible imagery. People might think either the brothers and Mel had ganged up on Uni or Uni had voluntarily serviced them all, even if nothing happened in reality. Most people at Court were notorious gossips and vicious to a fault.

Michael looked at Uni and nodded. “I don’t know if Robert will tell his father, but if Sir Richard wants the truth, he’ll come find it out. I know enough of him to know he’s not afraid to confront something or someone. Especially if it concerns the reputation of his daughter.”

True to his claim, there came a sudden soft, yet sturdy, knock on the door. “I am Sir Richard. I’ve come to discuss something of import . . . let me in.” It was not a request.

Michael opened the still unlocked door, revealing to Sir Richard that three of them sat calmly around the bed containing a very injured and weak fourth.

The tall, robust blond man entered and shut the door firmly behind him. Glancing from one brother to the other, he seemed unaware that a female even sat in the room. Finally, he said “What goes one here? And why do I suppose I did not meet who I was told earlier?”

Eric opened his pain-filled brown eyes and sighed. “I apologize, Sir Richard. I am Eric Montgomery. I . . .”

Michael interrupted. “And I am Sir Michael Montgomery, his brother. And you are correct. Earlier my father introduced me in my brother’s name. I had no desire to embarrass you in public with the mistake, so kept my name to myself.”

Richard rocked back on his heels, beefy arms crossing over his chest. Narrowing blue-grey eyes he studied Eric carefully. “And what happened, lad? Attacked, I’d warrant. Was is training?”

Michael again took charge and claimed “if you wish the information, Sir Richard, you will please address the king. He is aware of the incident and wishes us to remain here until he sends for us. He was seeking out my father for counsel last I was aware.”

Finally, Richard turned to pin Michael with his curious gaze, obviously an intelligence working behind the burly exterior. He nodded once, looked back over the foursome, and suddenly seemed to note Uni’s gender. “Ah, you must be the St. Clair girl. I’ve had the honor of your mother’s medical knowledge after a serious fall during a joust. A wonderful healer and noble woman, girl. Suppose you’re following your mother’s fine footsteps, eh?” He nodded, as if quite delighted with his own assumptions. Again, he looked around and frowned when he saw Mel. “Hmmm… Guthrie . . . always mentioned his daughter, never his son. Must have wanted to keep you quiet until he brought you for testing. Guthrie was a bit of a prankster, I recall.” He nodded then headed for the door.

Stopping before opening it, he said, “Sir Michael, thank you for your kindness to my family this noon. My wife would have been mortified if we had been revealed in such a mistake when first we arrived. I would have noticed my own error if I had not been so worried about my daughter.” He looked at the young knight. “You see, she’s had a fever recently and we brought her here to get healing from the alchemist.”

Michael smiled and offered his arm, which Richard clasped. The younger knight said, “My brother’s injuries were tended by Lady Unity as well as the Alchemist’s apprentice, Albert. I am sure young Albert won’t mind seeing to your daughter. He lives at the end of the fourth floor, the green decorated door. He’s a good healer, Sir Richard.”

Richard nodded, looking thankful. “Well, if the king wants the girl,” he gestured to Uni, “to sit with his cousin, who am I to argue. I’ll seek out this Albert instead. But,” he glanced back at the pretty redhead, “if you are free later, perhaps you can see my girl? I would feel better with a female healer tending a female patient, after all.” He shrugged, leaving unsaid the uncomfortable idea of mixed healer-patient appointments.

The man left, softly closing the door, but through the wood could be heard his booming voice “Robert, get over here and stand before this door. Only the king’s messenger is permitted past. This is your first official duty as my trainee, so do not fail me!” The loud thump of Richard’s boots faded down the hall.

Michael looked at the others. “What was that whirlwind?” he questioned softly, grinning.

"That went well." Uni smiled, still slightly beaming at the kind words about her mother and being asked personally to look at Sir Richard's daughter. She straightened her skirt.

Mel let out a breath, relieved that no questions were brought up about her family further.

Michael sank onto his brother’s bed, careful not to jar the younger man. “So, if we’ll be spending hours together, we should at least have something to do. I wouldn’t normally teach a young lady card games,” he smiled at Uni as he leaned over and reached into his brother’s travel bag, “but it’ll pass the time if you won’t take offense, Uni.” Michael held up the beautifully hand painted thin wooden slats.

"Not at all," Uni smiled. "I'd like to. It could be fun."


	6. A Day in the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, due to illness, work, and school issues, our next chapter will be a little time in coming. Thank you for your love and patience.
> 
> Sam

The garden spread out across a vast area; smooth walkways neatly intersected carefully cultivated flower beds. Benches had been spaced generously for resting intervals and sculpted fir trees provided shade and an illusion of privacy. A rainbow of colors surrounded Hank as he knelt by a small spaniel, trying to get its foot untangled from a creeping vine covered in beautiful blue flowers. He concentrated fully on the whimpering pup.

Sheila walked down one of the various walkways in the garden, thankful to get out of the stuffy room and bed for a day. She was starting to feel better after being treated by the alchemist's apprentice and healer's daughter, and wanted a quiet walk. Sheila had dressed in one of her favorite light pink gowns that complimented her complexion and had done up her hair in a braided bun. From a distance. she spotted someone kneeling down and decided to walk over quietly. "Hello," she said, looking down at the young man. She automatically recognized him being the one who helped her when she arrived and quickly looked down at the young pup. "Who is this little guy?"

"One of the King's hunters. . . or will be when she grows," Hank answered automatically. After a couple more twists of the vine, he got the puppy free and looked up with a friendly smile. Noting who spoke to him, the woodman's powder blue eyes widened and he rose to his feet, taking the puppy up in his arms. "Hello . . . feeling better, my lady?" His voice remained friendly, gentle, and welcoming.

 

"Yes, I am. Thank you . . ." The redhead bit her lip, trying to recall the older teen's name. It'd had only been a day and they had met briefly, but she wanted to thank the handsome blonde for helping her yesterday. Her teal-green eyes focused on the spaniel pup. "She's beautiful." 

“Yes,” he offered the small spaniel to the pretty redhead. “Would you wish to hold her?” he asked. “She’s really well behaved.” The soft silky fur shone in the morning sunlight.

"I . . . Sure." Sheila smiled and took the offering pup, holding her securely in her arms. "You're so adorable," she cooed at the pup, stroking the soft golden ears. The young spaniel's tail wagged happily at the attention. 

As softly as if he spoke to the formerly frightened puppy, the woodsman said, “My name is Henry. I know it is not polite to exchange names, but as no one introduced ue yesterday, I felt it more rude to not let you know.” He gestured towards a bench under a flowering tree. “Do you wish to sit?”

Sheila looked at the bench, seeing it offered a little shade from the sun, and nodded, deciding that taking a moment to sit wouldn't hurt anything. After all, she was still recovering from her fever. "I understand," she said as they walked a few steps to the bench. "It's nice to meet you, Henry. My name is Sheila." The redhead adjusted her skirt as she sat down and placed the small spaniel in her lap, rubbing the young pup's head. "Thank you for helping me yesterday," she said, her face turning pink. 

Pausing a moment, Hank finally sank onto the edge of the bench. “I’m pleased to see you recovered somewhat. Traveling while ill is never pleasant. Sir Michael is a good man,” he added, still trying to sort through the confusing mix up yesterday. “I fear your father may have mistaken him for his younger brother, Eric?”

"Sir Michael is," she agreed. "He was kind enough to tell me who he was yesterday, though I kept it from my father. I guess they look similar?" Sheila frowned. 

“I understand that they could almost pass for twins,” Hank confirmed. He reached over and stroked the puppy’s ears. “Has your mother recovered from the journey, Lady Sheila?” He offered her another smile as the puppy began licking Sheila’s hand.

"My mother is doing well. She loves coming here." The redhead sighed quietly to herself. "I believe she's meeting with her closest friends later today." She gave him a smile and turned her attention to the puppy, laughing lightly at the tickling sensation on her fingers. "I like you, too," Sheila told the puppy as she stroked her head and back, causing their fingers to brush against each other briefly. 

Hank felt a jolt of warmth, almost electricity, when his fingers caressed Sheila’s instead of the fur. He flushed a bit but smiled. “Are you here for the entire summer or only part of the festivities? With the tourney planned, new knights are to be chosen . . . courtships to be finalized.” He concentrated his eyes on the puppy.

"I will be staying here the entire summer, enjoying the festivities and supporting my younger brother. It will be a fun summer with new nights and courtships," she said, hoping she sounded as excited like she should be. The sixteen year old still wasn't happy about her betrothal. "Will you be as well?" she asked, her face still blushing from the accidental contact. 

With a soft, friendly chuckle, Hank said, “yes. I live here. My father is the King’s Warder.” The athletic blond smiled at the delicate looking redhead. “He raises the children the King shelters, orphans or abused children he rescues.” Lifting a hand to run through his thick hair, Hank let his eyes rove over the garden. “If I wanted to, I’d be allowed to compete for knighthood, but . . .” he turned back to smile at her, “I’m a woodsman. I protect the creatures that live here.”

"Oh." Sheila smiled at him. "That must be nice, helping those in need during horrible times. The creatures are lucky to have someone like you looking out for them, especially this precious darling here," she said, rubbing the pup's head again. "You have a kind heart." She smiled again, admiring him. "Ever thought of trying to be both?" she asked curiously, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. 

Meeting her beautiful teal eyes, Hank replied, “my father, Sir Tobias, is both. He doesn’t have enough time to care for the forest and animals . . . at least not as much as he’d like.” Hank thought for a moment, still stroking the puppy, hand brushing Sheila’s once or twice more. “But with the authority of being a knight, he has more control over things, too. Perhaps being a knight as well is the way . . .”

Warmth coursed through her body when their hands touched again, and Sheila continued to blush when she met his light blue eyes. "Perhaps you could focus more on the care of animals and the forest while still doing your duties as a knight." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I know it isn't my place to recommend, but I do know that you should follow your heart," she said, looking back down at the puppy in her lap. 

“I don’t mind your advice, Lady Sheila. You show a care for the wildness, and that is important . . . to me.” He looked down again. “I will discuss the duties with my father to see if I could balance nature versus duty.” He stroked the puppy, which had settled down on Sheila’s lap to enjoy the petting and a small nap.As Hank opened his mouth to speak again, a young male voice interrupted.

“Sheila? Are you in the garden?” her brother sounded close.

"I . . ." Sheila stopped, recognizing her brother's voice. "That's my brother," she whispered low enough for only Henry to hear, trying not to let her disappointment bother her. "I should go find him." Her face flushed, knowing Bobby would ask her questions about why she wasn't chaperoned now that she's betrothed. 

“I remember him from yesterday. He’s training to be a knight?” Hank smiled. He knew he shouldn’t have been alone with the pretty woman, But he had to find a way to minimize the damage to her reputation. Leaving her on her own would be unconscionable; however, she could be in real danger on her own even in the king’s garden. “I would like to meet him, if I may?”

Bobby turned the corner of the lush garden and stopped at the sight of the blond man and the red-haired woman. At first, he wondered if that was the same redhead he’d met the day before, but he recognized Sheila’s dress from breakfast that morning. “Sheila?” The young blond let his hands ball into fists, ready to protect his sister’s honor if the man accosted her. 

"Hi, Bobby," Sheila said, giving her brother an assuring smile that nothing happened, and decided to introduce them quickly. "Bobby, this is Henry, and Henry, this is my brother Robert. He is training to be a knight," she confirmed as she smiled at both of them. The pup in her lap stretched and yawned, then fell back asleep.

Seeing that the man was the same one who’d rescued Sheila the morning before, Bobby relaxed immediately. “Hello,” he shook hands with Hank, who stood at the introduction. Seeing the pup, the smaller blond’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Where’d you get him? He’s so small!” Bobby had an adoration for animals and the puppy couldn’t help draw his enthusiasm,

Hank shrugged, “she belongs to the king, but she tends to be more curious than her litter mates. She got tangled and needed a rescue.” Hank looked past Bubby and smiled wider. “Hello, Freddie.”

Whirling around, the stocky thirteen year old blinked up at the shaggy haired youth striding down the path towards the group. “Hello?” Bobby called, almost challenging yet another stranger, but a sudden strong hand gently settled on his shoulder. The younger boy looked up into Hank’s gentle gaze.

“Freddie’s one of the King’s wards and lives here, like I do,” Hank smiled. “He also tends to the king’s hounds, so he’ll be looking for this little lady.” He gestured towards the sleeping spaniel.

“Sir Frederick, may I introduce the Lady Sheila and her brother, Knight in training Robert?” Hank smiled as his friend loped over.

The dark-haired youth ran a hand through his shaggy hair and smiled, his brown eyes half closed, making him look perpetually sleepy. “Heya, Hank. Greetings, my lady, my lord.” He bowed to them.

"Hello, Sir Frederick," Sheila said, smiling shyly. Over to the left of the group, the redhead saw another group of teens heading their way.

"We thought we heard some familiar voices this way," came Varla's soft voice as she came walking down a different path with Mel and Terri at her side.

Terri rushed over to her older brother's side, giving him a smile. "What's going on out here?" the thirteen year old asked curiously.

With an enthusiastic hug for his pretty, dark-haired sister, Freddie smiled. “We’re meeting the new arrivals. This is Lady Sheila and this is knight-in-training Robert. They’ve helped Hank rescue Taffy.” With an infectious grin, Freddie turned to the O’Neils. “The redhead is Miss Varla. This is Lady Theresa, my sister. And I don’t know our newest knight trainee?” He smiled at Mel, either unaware of the sixteen year old’s gender or uncaring.

Behind them, from yet another path leading directly towards the kitchen entrance, slowly strolled the Montgomery brothers, the paler, slightly smaller one leaning on the tanned, barely taller one. Together, the differences were slight but more evident, but only those who knew them would realize the men were not twins but two years apart in age. The relationship between the king and this dark haired, dark brown eyed pair was very evident.

“Hallo!” Michael called out with a smile for the young people, supporting Eric until he got to the bench on which Sheila sat. With a small smile for the pretty redhead, Michael took the initiative and eased Eric down without waiting for permission. Eric gave a worried look to the group of strangers.

"She's so cute," Terri cooed, eyeing the small spaniel. "It's nice to meet all of you."

"Welcome!" Mel greeted Michael and Eric. She noticed Eric seemed better than yesterday and felt somewhat relieved. Her green eyes looked back at Frederick. "I'm Mel Guthrie. I arrived late yesterday with my mother."

"Hello, Sir Michael." Sheila gave him a warm smile and tried to push aside her nervousness, noticing his brother's worried look. "Are you feeling better, my lord?" she asked the boy next to her.

He looked at the unknown redhead and frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?” his tone sounded arrogant, haughty.

Michael rolled his eyes and put a hand carefully on his brother’s head since it was one of the few places that didn’t hurt. “Calm down, Eric. None of them are friends of Father’s.” The older man’s words seemed to ease his brother’s negative reaction and Eric flushed.

Keeping himself stiff, he answered “I feel better today . . . thank you.”

“This is Eric,” Michael confirmed for Sheila. “Eric, this is Lady Sheila.”

Brown eyes widening, Eric looked at the girl on the bench with something akin to horror and shame - - he’d acted like a clod to his betrothed? He wanted to hide his face in his hands. “I am sorry . . . I . . .”

“He’s not very good with strangers when he’s not well,” Michael smoothly explained, just as yet another voice joined the group.

“Hello! Tell me you both are doing well enough to be out here?” The red-haired alchemist strode over, pushing his glasses up his nose. He had three other spaniel puppies yapping at his heels, causing the napping pup to stir and lift her head with a thump of her tail on Sheila’s thigh.

"It's alright," Sheila said, trying her best to keep the smile on her face. She knew he wasn't well and hoped that's all it was. She didn't know what she would do, but he was her betrothed. Noticing Taffy's excitement at seeing her siblings, Sheila gave the pup one last pat before carefully picking her up and setting her down on the ground, though she wanted to keep her.

Seeing the other puppies, Terri knelt down on the ground, giving the young pups attention.

"Hello, Albert," Varla greeted, her cheeks tinting pink.

"I am feeling better," Sheila admitted, though she was started to feel a little tired.

“I suppose we need introductions all around,” Freddie grinned, eyes still sleepy looking. “I’ll do it. So,” pointing at each girl in turn, Freddie said “Lady Sheila, Lady Theresa, Miss Varla.” He continued pointing around, moving into the men, as well, though again it was unclear if he knew Mel’s gender. “Knights in training, Mel, Robert, Henry, and Eric. Then of course there are Sir Michael and I, Sir Frederick. And this is the Alchemist’s Apprentice, Albert . . . but we call him Presto.” He smiled and seemed almost to vibrate with the same excitement as the four puppies playing their feet. “And that would be Miss Unity coming up the path with her healer’s basket.” He raised a hand in greeting for the redheaded healer.

Hank Reached over to aid Sheila to her feet. Michael, apparently taking a cue from the tall blond, did the same for his weakened brother. Fortunately, Hank explained his behavior. “If we go around two more bends, There are more benches to sit at and an awning to shield us from the hot sun.” He smiled at Uni and waved one hand toward the courtyard area he’s spoken off, signaling her to meet them there.

"Thank you, Henry," Sheila said as she took his hand then arm. She tried to ignore the warm feeling she felt as they started walking side by side.

“Sounds good,” Bobby grinned and gallantly offered his arm to Terri. “May I escort you?” The stocky blond tried practicing his chivalry on the girl more his height than any of the others.

"Thank you, Robert," Terri said shyly, standing back up from the ground and taking the young blonde's arm as they followed the older group.

Presto flushed as he offered an arm to Varla. “Miss Varla?”

Varla smiled. "Certainly," the redhead said as she took his arm.

Eric let his brother help him up with barely a wince, though he moved stiffly and tenderly. It was obvious to those watching that the youth wasn’t ill so much as injured, perhaps even severely.

Mel followed behind the others, unsure of where to go exactly as the garden was new to her.

The young group passed by various colors of flowers and plants and the warm summer breeze filled the area with a nice floral scent. Sheila looked over her shoulder, making sure her younger brother was still close behind then her teal eyes caught sight of Sir Michael and his brother before she looked back straight ahead, trying to keep herself from frowning.

As they got to the wider area, the promised awning and benches provided welcome relief for those who still weren’t well. As a point of chivalry, the males also aided the females to sit, but enough seating remained for the entire group to get comfortable with room left over. A trail led through rose arbors strait to the kitchens, meaning this was considered a dining area, as well.

Once the ladies had settled, Michael eased Eric to the bench. Unfortunately, the movement proved a bit much and Eric let out an inadvertent yelp, clutching Michael’s arm and burying his face in his brother’s chest, gasping. Presto immediately jumped to the younger Montgomery’s side and, from behind, unfastened the embroidered belt Eric wore so he could ease the tunic up, exposing bandaging with fresh blood. Shaking his head, Presto began unwinding the bandages to check that the stitched remained intact.

Hank, still standing beside Sheila, watching with a closed look on his face and anger in his pale eyes. The wounds were severe enough to warrant bedrest for sometime . . . and the day before Lord Montgomery had been insisting this youth travel and even possibly attend dinner? Hank didn’t often interact with Lord Montgomery, but this . . . he fisted his hands silently.

Bobby’s eyes opened wide at the revealed wounds, unsure just what weapon in training would have done such severe damage. For his part, Freddie, sitting on the ground among the four pups, had a sick look on his face at the sight of the damage to the other young man.

Uni rushed to Presto and Eric's side, carrying her healer's basket. Seeing the fresh blood, she knew it wasn't good. "They need to be cleaned again," she said quietly.

Sheila gasped as she caught sight of the red blood. The young redhead quickly averted her eyes, feeling sick to her stomach as she wondered what happened to the young man to cause such an injury, and focused on her hands in her lap.

The look on the healer's face worried Mel. She wasn't close enough to the see wounds but she remembered them from yesterday. The brown-haired girl remained quiet as she watched the sight not too far from her.

Terri saw the look on her brother's face as she watched him closely, knowing that whatever was going on wasn't good, and wondered if it had to do with yesterday.

Eric hisses at the feel of the last bandage tugging away, but he remained with his face pressed to his brother’s chest, hands clutching Michael’s strong arm. He knew everyone could see the injuries, but at least they granted to respect not to shoot questions at him while he was being tended.

“Yeah, infection,” Presto stated as he saw the yellow-green fluid leaking from around the stitches on the swollen, angry red wounds. “I gotta release the stitches so I can clean those wounds again. Must’ve gone deeper than I thought.” He shook his head and pushed his glasses up. “Okay, I need people to hold him on the ground, hold him still because this will hurt probably worse than the original injuries. I need clean water, hot, and lots of linen, clean. I need stitching stuff and my medicine chest from my room.” He looked around. “And those puppies need to stay away from his back while I work.”

Freddie nodded and instantly scooped all four spaniels into his arms and strode off without comment, heading for the kennels. Bobby jumped forward. “I’m strong. I can hold him,” he offered as Hank stepped forward to offer his aid as well.” Michael looked over at the woman. “I know where to get the medicine chest, so we need runners to get the rest of the supplies. Lady Sheila, stay here in the shade and act as watch. If my father comes, he’ll need to be distracted.” Coldly, the knight added, “he’s under investigation for these wounds and I don’t want him near my brother.” At that, Michael stepped back, allowing Hank to switch in for Eric to grip.

The injured youth seemed unbothered by suddenly holding this near stranger instead of his familiar, protective brother. Eric could hear as well as anyone else and knew what occurred around him.

"Of course," Sheila said, though she was unsure of what she'd do if Lord Montgomery was near to them. She didn't like how they met yesterday and hearing that he's under investigation unsettled her more. 

"I have stitching supplies in my basket here," Uni said as she set it on the bench. "I'll go find the fresh linens and be back here soon." She looked at Mel. "I can lead you to the hot water."

Mel nodded as she stood up, then the pair quickly walked the way in search of the supplies.

As Michael strode off towards the palace, his face dark and intent, Hank eased Eric to his knees on the path, the other yough whimpering in continued fiery pain. Finally, the woodsman had the other training knight on his face, on the ground. He nodded and Bobby, taking the silent cue, knelt down to aid in holding the young man if needed.

Softly, comfortingly, Presto started talking, but his words were not directed to the patient . . . they were directed at the three remaining women: Varla, Sheila, and Terri. “He’ll be in a lot of pain because the injuries cross his muscles and everything else inside. Some are deep enough to go to where the deepest pain lies. The dirt in his wounds from travel probably got into his blood, which s why he’s got infections. All I have to do,” and the ginger haired youth glanced over at the three females then back at Eric’s back, “is cut the stitches and clean the wounds again, then I’ll re-stitch but leave a bit of linen to draw the infection out further. It’s not ideal, but better than it could be. I’m afraid he’ll be stuck in bed for a few days until I’m sure the infection is gone.”

Sitting back on his heels, Presto sighed. “Varla, can you go get Unity’s mother? Unity’s great but we might need medicines I don’t have. Her mother would know which ones. Just describe what you see here and she’ll bring the right stuff.”

"Yes, I'll go right away," Varla said, getting up from the bench. "I'll be sure she brings something strong enough for the pain." She looked closely at the infected wounds, then left hurriedly to the palace.

"Is there anything else you might need, Presto?" Terri asked, unsure of whether or not she wanted to stay when the procedure started.

“Well,” Presto responded with a soft smile, pushing his glasses up again. “If you want to help Sheila keep an eye out for Lord Montgomery? If you see him, maybe the pair of you can distract the man so he stays out of this grotto? I want to be sure my patient’s not going to be bothered while I work.”

Hank gently stroked Eric’s hair, trying to soothe the injured youth as he would any injured creature he came across. Finally, Bobby spoke up. “Um . . . I know I’m just in training, but isn’t it considered cowardly to strike a man from the back?”

“Very,” said Hank, is eyes troubled and angry.

"Okay," the young girl said. Her deep blue eyes looked at the other benches, seeing which seat would have a better view, then Terri moved two benches over and seated herself again.

Sheila smiled at the young girl then frowned. "That is awful," she said, frowning and fiddling with her fingers.

Michael returned by then, as did Freddie. Dropping to his knees by his brother, Michael reached over, “I can take him now.”

With a shake of his head, Hank looked at the older youth. “If your father comes, you should be the one to confront him, not the ladies. I’ve got him, Michael.”

Dropping his hands. Michael nodded and rose to his feet. He looked from Sheila to Terri and sighed, running a hand through his dark locks. “I’m sorry, ladies, for what you’re witnessing here. I should have walked with him somewhere away from polite company.”

Presto reached for Uni’s basket to start threading needles while they waited for the rest of the supplies. He dipped each needle carefully in one of his own tinctures. As he worked, the young redhead said, “it’s a harsh reality, but the ladies would need to know how to care ofr their husband and children in future. No one escapes injury in this life. The more who know properly how to do this, the better health everyone will enjoy. And if they marry knights, the wounds could be even worse than this.”

"It's alright, Sir Michael. Presto is right," Sheila said. She hated to witness such a thing, but if Bobby was to become a knight she needed to know what to do. The redhead frowned as she looked back down at Eric's injuries, knowing that she might have to take care of him one day as well.

"Here you go, Presto," Uni said as she and Mel arrived with the linens and hot water. Mel set pot down on the ground where Presto could reach it while Uni set the clean linens on the bench where they could reach them. "I saw Varla pass by us a little bit ago. I know she shouldn't be too much longer with my mother."

Presto offered Uni a smile and began to wash his hands and then moved to wash Eric’s back. Finally, he grabbed the scissors and treated them with one of his tinctures. Presto carefully began cutting open the stitches he had closed only the day before; as they opened, the wound gaped and infection poured out. “Uni, wash him so I can see?”

Hank held Eric’s shoulders carefully, avoiding any of the lashes that had fallen there, while Bobby literally sat on the teen’s legs. However, the injured youth seemed more relieved at the loosening of the stitches than anything. He sobbed softly into the ground and Freddie slipped off his own over-tunic, folded it, and slid it below Eric’s face so he wasn’t breathing in dirt and rocks.

Uni nodded as she kneeled down on the ground. She washed her hands then grabbed a linen from the stack soaking the cloth in the warm water. "Eric, the water is a little too warm, but we have to clean your wounds," she warned him softly while she wrung out the soaked cloth. Carefully and using a bit of pressure, the redhead started to wash Eric's back, dabbing up the blood and infection at the site. 

“I want you to push as much of the infection from the wounds as possible, Unity. It’s going to hurt,” Presto added for Eric.

But despite the pain and fire in his back, Eric never got louder than his initial gasp earlier. Rather, he continued to hold onto the tunic, biting the material, whimpering softly but keeping quiet. It seemed a sad commentary: Eric Montgomery was too used to pain and hiding it.

With a silent nod, Uni started to do what Presto asked. She pressed the linen up against the festering welts down his back and wiped away the yellow-green liquid that oozed out. As she continued to apply pressure, she could feel Eric flinching beneath her hands though there was no yelp of pain. When the linen was full of blood, the redhead set it aside and reached for another clean linen, drenched the cloth in the warm water, and repeated the process, trying to determine the direction of each wound as she worked from top to bottom.

Bobby could honestly say he felt impressed by the other youth’s silence. The injuries were horrible and old scars traced his back as well, but the knight-in-training showed very little sign of the terrible pain. This would be his sister’s husband? So far, Bobby was incredibly impressed. He glanced over to Sheila to gauge her reaction to the situation.

Sheila gave her brother a small smile, though her eyes were filled with worry and sadness. She remained quiet as she watched Uni and Presto closely. The young redhead sat up straighter when she caught sight of Varla and an older woman walking straight to the group. "Varla is back with your mother, Unity," Sheila said to the teen as they got closer. 

Uni looked over her shoulder and let out a quiet sigh of relief when she saw her mother with her own basket. She soaked another cloth and continued to clean out the infection. 

As Lady St. Clair walked closer, her face hardened at the sight of Lord Montgomery's son. She knelt down beside her daughter and took out a small jar containing herbal tea from her basket. "Have him drink this, Henry," she said as she gave him the jar. "It will help ease the pain." Her maroon eyes looked at Presto. "We must stitch him quickly and move him from the heat. Does his sponsor know of his injuries?" the older woman asked, leaving her other questions unsaid, knowing full well what caused the wounds. 

Hank accepted the jar and looked at the youth sprawled face down on the ground. HE couldn’t think of a way to get Eric to drink the tea without turning him at least a little bit. After a moment, he sighed. “I need to switch his position until he’s done drinking,” he advised Uni and Presto. As Presto withdrew his hands, and tapped Uni’s to signal she should do the same, the strong blond ease the dark-haired youth to his side and helped him drink down the bitter tasting brew.

Michael sighed and ran a hand through his thick locks again. “Lady St. Clair? He doesn’t have a sponsor because he was apprenticed last night to Sir Dekion. And Sir Dekion has seen the wounds. He and the king are discussing what to do.” He sighed again. “Should we move him before we stitch him, my lady? I can carry Eric. I’ve done so before.”

Lady St. Clair nodded. "I'm glad our King knows of this wrongful doing," she frowned. "It would be wiser to move him before the stitching begins. It would prevent the stitches from opening and he would be more comfortable."

Nodding, looking relieved to be at last able to do something, Michael squatted down next to Eric, opposite where Hank knelt. “If you get his side, and I get this side, we can avoid his back,” the knight suggested to the woodsman.

Hank finished giving the potion to the injured youth and handed the jar off to Uni. “I’ve got him. And the pair slid their arms under Eric’s buttocks and an arm each under Eric’s and hefted him up, rising awkwardly from the ground then taking a moment to synch with one another. Finally, they carried the young, who lay his head weakly against his brother’s strong arm, down the path to the kitchen entrance, Bobby running ahead to get doors and clear servants out of the way.

Presto turned to Lady St. Clair. “Anything I can do to assist with his care, I’m ready for,” he stated, his voice wavering breaking slightly. He gathered his own delicate box of medicines and such, watching as Uni cleaned her hands then gathered her own basket together. Freddie leapt forward and said, “I’ll take care of this debris. You go tend him.”

"I do hope he'll be alright," Sheila said as she watched the other leave. She stood up, smoothing her gown. 

"He will be." Varla gave her an assuring smile. "Lady St. Clair is a good healer. With her daughter and Presto's help, they'll have him better in no time." Or so the redhead hoped. "Would you like to explore the garden a while longer?" she offered. 

"That would be nice," Sheila said, hoping the walk would keep herself from worrying. She knew she needed to rest, but after the events she witnessed, she knew she couldn't. 

"I want to go with them," Terri said to her brother. "I'll come find you later." She gave Freddie a quick hug, then the three girls left. 

As the different people moved off either to help the injured apprentice or to try to salvage the morning's enjoyment, Michael found himself alone with Sir Michael’s new trainee. The dark eyed knight smiled at the younger trainee and quickly gathered the used cloths and basin of dirty water.

“So, why do you want to be a knight?” he asked in his typical friendly manner.

"Being a knight is something I wanted to be ever since I was little," Mel said as she smiled. "My father taught me everything he knew before he died . . . and I want to follow in his footsteps and help the kingdom where I can."

Here's what we've got that needs changing:

Freddie nodded, dumping the water behind a tree and shoving the cloths into the basin. Sinking onto the closest bench, Freddie studied the young lady before him before nodding. He asked softly, “your father must have really felt a woman could do as much as a man . . . even kill if needed?” His brown eyes remained half-lidded, as if he had just roused from sleep.

"I . . . Yes he did," Mel said, taking a seat next to Freddie. She studied her hands. "He believed a woman should be able to defend herself if need be, but my mother disapproves."

Freddie shook his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes in a shaggy scruff. “I think your father was right. Women are too often victims. If they can fight and protect themselves, they have a better chance of not being hurt by someone with no appreciation of another’s right to life and happiness.” Looking over the young woman again, Freddie softly asked “does the king know? If you pass the trials and make knight, he won’t be pleased to be surprised.”

Mel sighed. "No, the king doesn't know, nor does Sir Michael or anyone else know." She sat up straighter and ran a hand through her dark hair.

“Well, you’ll need to tell the king before you are knighted.” Freddie seemed unphased by her secret, though. “You do realize that as Sir Michael’s trainee, you’ll be expected to move into his rooms?” Freddie reached over to stroke a gentle finger over a bright yellow flower petal, a small smile crossing his handsome features.

"I know." Mel sighed again. "And I am aware. It was mentioned yesterday," she said, her face slightly flushed. "I'll figure it out somehow."

Sitting back up, Michael offered Mel a smile. “He’s a good man. Some day soon you’ll realize you can trust him. Right now, he’s too distracted with helping his brother.” Standing, stretching, Freddie let out a soft sigh. “Wanna walk, Mel?” He apparently determined to treat her as the boy she had disguised herself as.

"Sure," Mel said, getting up as well. She felt relieved he seemed to keep her secret. "When things start to get better for him and his brother, I'll tell him."

Nodding, smiling happily, Freddie began to lead Mel down a different path from the one the other ladies took. The path he chose was wide and very well sunlit with blooming flowers and trees and the sounds of a small stream nearby. He kept his hands to himself and didn’t even really look at the young woman, apparently not the threat her mother had always warned her about a man wanting to get her alone. Freddie seemed far more interested in the actual gardens and the exercise than the companion with him.

Finally, he asked “have you a training partner? I’m sure you can practice with young Robert . . . he’ll need a sparring partner. And there’s another knight in training coming soon, a boy called Timothy, about Robert’s age. Until Eric’s better, or the other trainees arrive,you’re fairly limited for sparring partners.

"I haven't one yet. I would like to spar with Robert, if he wanted," Mel said as she looked off to the beautiful flowers. "I know of Timothy and his father Sir John. I met him a few times but I wasn't . . . I was younger than I am now." She sighed. "But I do look forward to sparring with who I can."

With a nod and an almost eager looking smile, Freddie said “I don’t mind sparring with trainees, Mel. I’d be happy to help if my duties permit.” Shortly they came out of the back wall of the garden overlooking the kennels. With a happy sigh, the knight offered his companion a grin then loped down towards the dogs being trained or simply playing if too young to train, such as the four pups. “Have you been to a kennels, Mel?”

"Well, then I'll be looking forward to it," Mel said with a smile. "I haven't been to the kennels yet. This palace is so huge. I have trouble finding my way around in it." She laughed softly. 

With a nod, Freddie gestured towards the kennel of dogs. “I’ll help you find your way back to the palace, Mel. Come meet my other family.” And the friendly knight led his newest friend off among the romping puppies and training hounds.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler: None really, this goes totally AU from the series.
> 
> Category: AU, Fantasy, Romance
> 
> Disclaimer: _"Dungeons and Dragons"_ is a trademark of TSR and the cartoon is a creation of many peoples, including Marvel Productions, TSR inc, Saban Entertainment, and Wizards of the Coast. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story-and most likely not a story any of them would have written had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.
> 
> Distribution: Please ask first?
> 
> Feedback: Please? We love comments.


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